\ 


WITHOUT    A    HOME 


BY 


EDWARD    P.   ROE 


AUTHOR  OF 


BARRIERS   BURNED   AWAY,"    "  OPENING   A   CHESTNUT   BURR,' 
"  SUCCESS   WITH   SMALL   FRUITS,"    ETC.,   ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,    MEAD   &   COMPANY 

No.  755  BROADWAY 


COPYRIGHT,  1881,  BY 
DODD,    MEAD   &   COMPANY 


WT7 


PREFACE. 


JUST  ten  years  ago  I  took  my  first  hesitating  and  dubious 
steps  toward  authorship.  My  reception  on  the  part  of  the 
public  has  been  so  much  kinder  than  I  expected,  and  the 
audience  that  has  listened  to  my  stories  with  each  successive 
autumn  has  been  so  steadfast  and  loyal,  that  I  can  scarcely  be 
blamed  for  entertaining  a  warm  and  growing  regard  for  these 
unseen,  unknown  friends.  Toward  indifferent  strangers  we 
maintain  a  natural  reticence,  but  as  acquaintance  ripens  into 
friendship  there  is  a  mutual  impulse  toward  an  exchange  of 
confidences.  In  the  many  kind  letters  received  I  have  grate 
fully  recognized  this  impulse  in  my  readers,  and  am  tempted 
by  their  interest  to  be  a  little  garrulous  concerning  my  literary 
life,  the  causes  which  led  to  it,  and  the  methods  of  my  work. 
Those  who  are  indifferent  can  easily  skip  these  preliminary 
pages,  and  those  who  are  learning  to  care  a  little  for  the  per 
sonality  of  him  who  has  come  to  them  so  often  with  the  kin 
dling  of  the  autumn  fires  may  find  some  satisfaction  in  learn 
ing  why  he  comes,  and  the  motive,  the  spirit  with  which,  in 
a  sense,  he  ventures  to  be  present  at  their  hearths. 

One  of  the  advantages  of  authorship  is  criticism  ;  and  I 
have  never  had  reason  to  complain  of  its  absence.  My  only 
regret  is  that  I  have  not  been  able  to  make  better  use  of  it, 
I  admit  that  both  the  praise  and  blame  have  been  rather  be 
wildering,  but  this  confusion  is  undoubtedly  due  to  a  lack  of 
the  critical  faculty.  With  one  acute  gentleman,  however,  who 


iv  PREFACE. 

remarked  that  it  ' '  was  difficult  to  account  for  the  popularity 
of  Mr.  Roe's  books,"  I  am  in  hearty  accord,  I  fully  share 
in  his  surprise  and  perplexity.  It  may  be  that  we  at  last 
have  an  instance  of  an  effect  without  a  cause. 

Ten  years  ago  I  had  never  written  a  line  of  a  story,  and  had 
scarcely  entertained  the  thought  of  constructing  one.  The 
burning  of  Chicago  impressed  me  powerfully,  and  obedient 
to  an  impulse  I  spent  several  days  among  its  smoking 
ruins.  As  a  result,  my  first  novel,  "  Barriers  Burned 
Away,"  gradually  took  possession  of  my  mind.  I  did 
not  manufacture  the  story  at  all,  for  it  grew  as  natu 
rally  as  do  the  plants — weeds,  some  may  suggest — on  my 
farm.  In  the  intervals  of  a  busy  and  practical  life,  and  also 
when  I  ought  to  have  been  sleeping,  my  imagination,  un- 
spurred,  and  almost  undirected,  spun  the  warp  and  woof  of 
the  tale,  and  wove  them  together.  At  first  I  supposed  it 
would  be  but  a  brief  story,  which  might  speedily  find  its  way 
into  my  own  waste-basket,  and  I  was  on  the  point  of  burning 
it  more  than  once.  One  wintry  afternoon  I  read  the  few 
chapters  then  written  to  a  friend  in  whose  literary  taste  I  had 
much  confidence,  and  had  her  verdict  been  adverse  they  prob 
ably  would  have  perished  as  surely  as  a  callow  germ  exposed 
to  the  bitter  storm  then  raging  without.  I  am  not  sure, 
however,  but  that  the  impulse  to  write  would  have  carried 
me  forward,  and  that  I  would  have  found  ample  return  for 
all  the  labor  in  the  free  play  of  my  fancy,  even  though  editors 
and  publishers  scoffed  at  the  result. 

On  a  subsequent  winter  afternoon  the  incipient  story  passed 
through  another  peril.  In  the  office  of  The  New  York 
Evangelist  I  read  the  first  eight  chapters  of  my  blotted  man 
uscript  to  Dr.  Field  and  his  associate  editor,  Mr.  J.  H.  Dey. 
This  fragment  was  all  that  then  existed,  and  as  I  stumbled 
through  my  rather  blind  chirography  I  often  looked  askance 
at  the  glowing  grate,  fearing  lest  my  friends  in  kindness  would 


PREFACE.  V 

suggest  that  I  should  drop  the  crude  production  on  the  coals, 
where  it  could  do  neither  me  nor  any  one  else  further  harm, 
and  then  go  out  into  the  world  once  more  clothed  in  my  right 
mind.  A  heavy  responsibili'y  rests  on  the  gentlemen  named, 
for  they  asked  me  to  leave  the  manuscript  for  serial  issue. 
From  that  hour  I  suppose  I  should  date  the  beginning  of  my 
life  of  authorship.  The  story  grew  from  eight  into  fifty-two 
chapters,  and  ran  just  one  year  in  the  paper,  my  manuscript 
often  being  ready  but  a  few  pages  in  advance  of  publication. 
I  wrote  no  outline  for  my  guidance  ;  I  merely  let  the  char 
acters  do  as  they  pleased,  and  work  out  their  own  destiny.  I 
had  no  preparation  for  my  work  beyond  a  careful  study  of  the 
topography  of  Chicago  and  the  incidents  of  the  fire.  For 
nearly  a  year  my  chief  recreation  was  to  dwell  apart  among 
the  shadows  created  by  my  fancy,  and  I  wrote  when  and  where 
I  could — on  steamboats  and  railroad  cars,  as  well  as  in  my 
study.  In  spite  of  my  fears  the  serial  found  readers,  and  at 
last  I  obtained  a  publisher.  When  the  book  appeared  I  sup 
pose  I  looked  upon  it  much  as  a  young  father  looks  upon 
his  first  child.  His  interest  in  it  is  intense,  but  he  knows 
well  that  its  future  is  very  doubtful. 

It  appears  to  me,  however,  that  the  true  impulse  toward 
authorship  does  not  arise  from  a  desire  to  please  any  one,  but 
rather  from  a  strong  consciousness  of  something  definite  to 
say,  whether  people  will  listen  or  not.  I  can  honestly  assert 
that  I  have  never  manufactured  a  novel,  and  should  I  do  so 
I  am  sure  it  would  be  so  wooden  and  lifeless  that  no  one 
would  read  it  My  stories  have  come  with  scarcely  any 
volition  on  my  part,  and  their  characters  control  me.  If  I 
should  move  them  about  like  images  they  would  be  but 
images.  In  every  book  they  often  acted  in  a  manner  just 
the  opposite  from  that  which  I  had  planned.  Moreover, 
there  are  unwritten  stories  in  my  mind,  the  characters  of 
which  are  becoming  almost  as  real  as  the  people  I  meet  daily. 


vi  PREFACE. 

While  composing  narratives  I  forget  everything  and  live 
in  an  ideal  world,  which  nevertheless  is  real  for  the  time. 
The  fortunes  of  the  characters  affect  me  deeply,  and  I  truly 
believe  that  only  as  I  feel  strongly  will  the  reader  be  in 
terested.  A  book,  like  a  bullet,  can  go  only  as  far  as  the 
projecting  force  carries  it. 

The  final  tests  of  all  literary  and  art  work  are  an  intelligent 
public  and  time.  We  may  hope,  dream,  and  claim  what  we 
please,  but  these  two  tribunals  will  settle  all  values  ;  there 
fore  the  only  thing  for  an  author  or  artist  to  do  is  to  express 
his  own  individuality  clearly  and  honestly,  and  submit  pa 
tiently  and  deferentially  to  these  tests.  In  nature  the  lichen 
has  its  place  as  truly  as  the  oak. 

I  will  say  but  a  few  words  in  regard  to  the  story  contained 
in  this  volume.  It  was  announced  two  years  ago,  but  I  found 
that  I  could  not  complete  it  satisfactorily.  In  its  present  form 
it  has  been  almost  wholly  re-cast,  and  much  broadened  in  its 
scope.  It  touches  upon  several  modern  and  very  difficult 
problems.  I  have  not  in  the  remotest  degree  attempted  to 
solve  them,  but  rather  have  sought  to  direct  attention  to 
them.  In  our  society  public  opinion  is  exceedingly  power 
ful.  It  is  the  torrent  that  sweeps  away  obstructing  evils. 
The  cleansing  tide  is  composed  originally  of  many  rills  and 
streamlets,  and  it  is  my  hope  that  this  volume  may  add  a  little 
to  that  which  at  last  is  irresistible. 

I  can  say  with  sincerity  that  I  have  made  my  studies  care 
fully  and  patiently,  and  when  dealing  with  practical  phases  of 
city  life  I  have  evolved  very  little  from  my  own  inner  con 
sciousness.  I  have  visited  scores  of  typical  tenements  ;  I 
have  sat  day  after  day  on  the  bench  with  the  police  judges, 
and  have  visited  the  station-houses  repeatedly.  There  are 
few  large  retail  shops  that  I  have  not  entered  many  times, 
and  I  have  conversed  with  both  the  employers  and  employes. 
It  is  a  shameful  fact  that,  in  the  face  of  a  plain  statute  fcr< 


PREFACE.  VIZ 

bidding  the  barbarous  regulation,  saleswomen  are  still  com 
pelled  to  stand  continuously  in  many  of  the  stores.  On  the 
intensely  hot  day  when  our  murdered  President  was  brought 
from  Washington  to  the  seaside,  I  found  many  girls  standing 
wearily  and  uselessly  because  of  this  inhuman  rule.  There 
was  no  provision  for  their  occasional  rest  Not  for  a  thou 
sand  dollars  would  I  have  incurred  the  risk  and  torture  of 
standing  through  that  sultry  day.  There  are  plenty  of  shops 
in  the  city  which  are  now  managed  on  the  principles  of 
humanity,  and  such  patronage  should  be  given  to  these  and 
withdrawn  from  the  others  as  would  teach  the  proprietors 
that  women  are  entitled  to  a  little  of  the  consideration  that  is 
so  justly  associated  with  the  work  of  the  Society  for  the  Pre 
vention  of  Cruelty  to  Animals.  Mr.  Bergh  deserves  praise 
for  protecting  even  a  cat  from  cruelty  ;  but  all  the  cats  in  the 
city  unitedly  could  not  suffer  as  much  as  the  slight  growing 
girl  who  must  stand  during  a  long  hot  day.  I  trust  the 
reader  will  note  carefully  the  Appendix  at  the  close  of  this 
book. 

It  will  soon  be  discovered  that  the  modern  opium  or  mor 
phia  habit  has  a  large  place  in  this  volume.  While  I  have 
tried  to  avoid  the  style  of  a  medical  treatise,  which  would  be 
in  poor  taste  in  a  work  of  fiction,  I  have  carefully  consulted 
the  best  medical  works  and  authorities  on  the  subject,  and  I 
have  conversed  with  many  opium  slaves  in  all  stages  of  the 
habit.  I  am  sure  I  am  right  in  fearing  that  in  the  morphia 
hunger  and  consumption  one  of  the  greatest  evils  of  the 
future  is  looming  darkly  above  the  horizon  of  society. 
Warnings  against  this  poison  of  body  and  soul  cannot  be  too 
solemn  or  too  strong. 

So  many  have  aided  me  in  the  collection  of  my  material 
that  any  mention  of  names  may  appear  almost  invidious  ;  but 
as  the  reader  will  naturally  think  that  the  varied  phases  of  the 
opium  habit  are  remote  from  my  experience,  I  will  say  that  I 


Vlli  PREFACE. 

have  been  guided  in  my  words  by  trustworthy  physicians  like 
Drs.  E.  P.  Fowler,  of  New  York ;  Louis  Seaman,  chief  'of 
staff  at  the  Charity  Hospital ;  Wm.  H.  Vail,  and  many  others. 
I  have  also  read  such  parts  of  my  MS.  as  touched  on  this  sub 
ject  to  Dr.  H.  K.  Kane,  the  author  of  two  works  on  the 
morphia  habit. 

This  novel  appeared  as  a  serial  in  the  Congregationalist  of 
Boston,  and  my  acknowledgments  are  due  to  the  editors  and 
publishers  of  this  journal  for  their  confidence  in  taking  the 
story  before  it  was  written  and  for  their  uniform  courtesy. 

I  can  truly  say  that  I  have  bestowed  more  labor  on  this  book 
than  upon  any  which  have  preceded  it ;  for  the  favor  accorded 
me  by  the  public  imposes  the  strongest  obligation  to  be  con 
scientious  in  my  work. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  J"AGK 

I.     One  Girl's  Ideal  of  Life 9 

II.     Weakness i? 

III.  Confidential 26 

IV.  '•  Pitiless  Waves." 31 

V.     The  Rudiments  of  a  Man 43 

VI.     Roger  Discovers  a  New  Type 53 

VII.     Comparisons 61 

VIII.     Changes 66 

IX.     Neither  Boy  nor  Man 77 

X.     A  Council 89 

XL     A  Shadow 97 

XII.     Viewless  Fetters 107 

XIII.  A  Scene  Beneath  the  Hemlocks 119 

XIV.  The  Old  Mansion 135 

XV.     "Welcome  Home." 146 

XVI.     Belleand  Mildred 159 

XVII.     Belle  Launches  Herself. 171 

XVIII.     "  I  Believe  in  You." ...   185 


^  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  FAGB 

XIX.     Belle  Jars  the  "  System." 197 

XX.     Several  Quiet  Forces  at  Work 211 

%  XL     "  He's  a  Man." 223 

XXII.     Skilled  Labor 233 

XXIII.  The  Old  Astronomer 242 

XXIV.  Roger  Reappears 251 

XXV.     The  Dark  Shadow  of  Coming  Events 264 

XXVI.     Waxing  and  Waning  Manhood 272 

XXVII.     A  Slave 282 

XXVIII.     New  York's  Humanity 289 

XXIX.     The  Beatitudes  of  Opium 299 

XXX.     The  Secret  Vice  Revealed 309 

XXXI.     An  Opium  Maniac's  Christmas, 323 

XXXII.     A  Black  Conspiracy 340 

XXXIII.  Mildred   in  a  Prison  Cell 354 

XXXIV.  "A  Wise  Judge" 369 

XXXV.     "  I  am  so  Perplexed  " '..388 

XXXVI.     A  Woman's  Heart 399 

XXXVII.     Strong  Temptation 410 

XXXVIII.     No  "  Dark  Corners  " 423 

XXXIX.     "  Home,  Sweet  Home  " 434 

XL.     Neighbors 446 

XLI.     Glints  of  Sunshine 460 

XLII.     Hopes  Given  and  Slain 469 

XLIII.     Was  Belle  Murdered  ? 480 


CONTENTS.  xi 

CHAPTER  PACK 

XLI V.     The  Final  Consolations  of  Opium 485 

XLV.     Mother  and  Son 495 

XLVI.     A  Fatal  Error 505 

XLVIL     Light  at  Eventide. 516 

XLVIII.     "  Good  Angel  of  God  " 529 

XLIX.     Home 541 

Appendix 557 


WITHOUT  A  HOME. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ONE  GIRL'S  IDEAL  OF  LIFE. 

IT  was  an  attractive  picture  that  Martin  Jocelyn  looked 
upon  through  the  open  doorway  of  his  parlor.  His  lively 
daughter  Belle  had  invited  half  a  score  of  her  schoolmates 
to  spend  the  evening,  and  a  few  privileged  brothers  had  been 
permitted  to  come  also.  The  young  people  were  naturally 
selecting  those  dances  which  had  some  of  the  characteristics 
of  a  romp,  for  they  were  at  an  age  when  motion  means  en 
joyment. 

Miss  Belle,  eager  and  mettlesome,  stood  waiting  for  mu 
sic  that  could  scarcely  be  lighter  or  more  devoid  of  moral 
quality  than  her  own  immature  heart.  Life,  at  that  time, 
had  for  her  but  one  great  desideratum — fun  ;  and  with  her 
especial  favorites  about  her,  with  a  careful  selection  of  ' '  nice 
brothers, ' '  canvassed  with  many  pros  and  cons  over  neglect 
ed  French  exercises,  she  had  the  promise  of  plenty  of  it  for 
a  long  evening,  and  her  dark  eyes  glowed  and  cheeks  flamed 
at  the  prospect.  Impatiently  tapping  the  floor  with  her  foot, 
she  looked  toward  her  sister,  who  was  seated  at  the  piano. 

Mildred  Jocelyn  knew  that  all  were  waiting  for  her  ;  she 
instinctively  felt  the  impatience  she  did  not  see,  and  yet 
could  not  resist  listening  to  some  honeyed  nonsense  that  her 
"friend"  was  saying.  Ostensibly,  Vinton  Arnold  was  at 


10  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

her  side  to  turn  the  leaves  of  the  music,  but  in  reality  to 
feast  his  eyes  on  beauty  which  daily  bound  him  in  stronger 
chains  of  fascination.  Her  head  drooped  under  his  words, 
but  only  as  the  flowers  bend  under  the  dew  and  rain  that 
give  them  life.  His  passing  compliment  was  a  trifle,  but  it 
seemed  like  the  delicate  touch  to  which  the  subtle  electric 
current  responds.  From  a  credulous,  joyous  heart  a  crim 
son  tide  welled  up  into  her  face  and  neck  ;  she  could  not 
repress  a  smile,  though  she  bowed  her  head  in  girlish  shame 
to  hide  it.  Then,  as  if  the  light,  gay  music  before  her-had 
become  the  natural  expression  of  her  mood,  she  struck  into 
it  with  a  brilliancy  and  life  that  gave  even  Belle  content 

Arnold  saw  the  pleasure  his  remark  had  given,  and  sur 
mised  the  reason  why  the  effect  was  so  much  greater  than 
the  apparent  cause.  For  a  moment  an  answering  glow 
lighted  up  his  pale  face,  and  then,  as  if  remembering  some 
thing,  he  sighed  deeply  ;  but  in  the  merry  life  which  now 
filled  the  apartments  a  sigh  stood  little  chance  of  recognition. 

The  sigh  of  the  master  of  the  house,  however,  was  so  deep 
and  his  face  so  clouded  with  care  and  anxiety  as  he  turned 
from  it  all,  that  his  wife,  who  at  that  moment  met  him,  was 
compelled  to  note  that  something  was  amiss. 

"  Martin,  what  is  it  ?"  she  asked. 

He  looked  for  a  moment  into  her  troubled  blue  eyes,  and 
noted  how  fair,  delicate,  and  girlish  she  still  appeared  in  her 
evening  dress.  He  knew  also  that  the  delicacy  and  refine 
ment  of  feature  were  but  the  reflex  of  her  nature,  and,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  he  wished  that  she  were  a  strong, 
coarse  woman. 

"  No  matter,  Fanny,  to-night.  See  that  the  youngsters 
have  a  good  time,"  and  he  passed  hastily  out. 

"  He's  worrying  about  those  stupid  business  matters 
again, ' '  she  said,  and  the  thought  seemed  to  give  much  relief. 

Business  matters  were  masculine,  and  she  was  essentially 


ONE   GIRL'S  IDEAL   OF  LIFE.  II 

feminine.     Her  world  was  as  far  removed  from  finance  as 
her  laces  from  the  iron  in  which  her  husband  dealt. 

A  little  boy  of  four  years  of  age  and  a  little  girl  of  six, 
whose  tiny  form  was  draped  in  such  gossamer-like  fabrics 
that  she  seemed  more  fairy-like  than  human,  were  pulling  at 
her  dress,  eager  to  enter  the  mirth-resounding  parlors,  but 
afraid  to  leave  her  sheltering  wing.  Mrs.  Jocelyn  watched 
the  scene  from  the  doorway,  where  her  husband  had  stood, 
without  his  sigh.  Her  motherly  heart  sympathized  with 
Belle's  abounding  life  and  fun,  and  her  maternal  pride  was 
assured  by  the  budding  promise  of  a  beauty  which  would 
shine  pre-eminent  when  the  school-girl  should  become  a 
belle  in  very  truth. 

But  her  eyes  rested  on  Mildred  with  wistful  tenderness. 
Her  own  experience  enabled  her  to  interpret  her  daughter's 
manner,  and  to  understand  the  ebb  and  flow  of  feeling 
whose  cause,  as  yet,  was  scarcely  recognized  by  the  young 
girl. 

The  geniality  of  Mrs.  Jocelyn' s  smile  might  well  assure 
Vinton  Arnold  that  she  welcomed  his  presence  at  her  daugh 
ter' s  side,  and  yet,  for  some  reason,  the  frank,  cordial  greet 
ing  in  the  lady's  eyes  and  manner  made  him  sigh  again. 
He  evidently  harbored  a  memory  or  a  thought  that  did  not 
accord  with  the  scene  or  the  occasion.  Whatever  it  was  it 
did  not  prevent  him  from  enjoying  to  the  utmost  the  pleas 
ure  he  ever  found  in  the  presence  of  Mildred.  In  contrast 
with  Belle  she  had  her  mother's  fairness  and  delicacy  of 
feature,  and  her  blue  eyes  were  not  designed  to  express  the 
exultation  and  pride  of  one  of  society's  flattered  favorites. 
Indeed  it  was  already  evident  that  a  glance  from  Arnold  was 
worth  more  than  the  world's  homage.  And  yet  it  was  com 
ically  pathetic— as  it  ever  is — to  see  how  the  girl  tried  to  hide 
the  ' '  abundance  of  her  heart. ' ' 

' '  Millie  is  myself  right  over  again, ' '   thought  Mrs.  Joce- 


12  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

lyn  ;  ' '  hardly  in  society  before  in  a  fair  way  to  be  out  of 
it  Beaux  in  general  have  few  attractions  for  her.  Belle, 
however,  will  lead  the  young  men  a  chase.  If  I'm  any 
judge,  Mr.  Arnold's  symptoms  are  becoming  serious.  He's 
just  the  one  of  all  the  world  for  Millie,  and  could  give  her 
the  home  which  her  style  of  beauty  requires — a  home  in 
which  not  a  common  or  coarse  thing  would  be  visible,  but 
all  as  dainty  as  herself.  How  I  would  like  to  furnish  her 
house  !  But  Martin  always  thinks  he's  so  poor." 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  soon  left  the  parlor  to  complete  her  arrange 
ments  for  an  elegant  little  supper,  and  she  complacently  felt 
that,  whatever  might  be  the  tribulations  of  the  great  iron  firm 
down  town,  her  small  domain  was  serene  with  present  happi 
ness  and  bright  with  promise. 

While  the  vigorous  appetites  of  the  growing  boys  and  girls 
were  disposing  of  the  supper,  Arnold  and  Mildred  rather 
neglected  their  plates,  finding  ambrosia  in  each  other's  eyes, 
words,  and  even  intonations.  Now  that  they  had  the  deserted 
parlor  to  themselves,  Mildred  seemed  under  less  constraint. 

"  It  was  very  nice  of  you,"  she  said,  "  to  come  and  help 
me  entertain  Belle's  friends,  especially  when  they  are  all  so 
young. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  I  am  a  happy  monument  of  self- 
sacrifice." 

"  But  not  a  brazen  one,"  she  added  quickly. 

' '  No,  nor  a  bronze  one,  either, ' '  he  said,  and  a  sudden 
gloom  gathered  in  his  large  dark  eyes. 

She  had  always  admired  the  pallor  of  his  face.  ' '  It  set 
off  his  superb  brown  eyes  and  heavy  mustache  so  finely, ' ' 
she  was  accustomed  to  say.  But  this  evening  for  some 
reason  she  wished  that  there  was  a  little  more  bronze  on  his 
cheek  and  decision  in  his  manner.  His  aristocratic  pallor 
was  a  trifle  too  great,  and  he  seemed  a  little  frail  to  satisfy 
even  her  ideal  of  manhood. 


ONE   GIRL'S  IDEAL   OF  LIFE.  13 

She  said,  in  gentle  solicitude,  ' '  You  do  not  look  well  this 
spring.  I  fear  you  are  not  very  strong." 

He  glanced  at  her  quickly,  but  in  her  kindly  blue  eyes 
and  in  every  line  of  her  lovely  face  he  saw  only  friendly 
regard — perhaps  more,  for  her  features  were  not  designed  for 
disguises.  After  a  moment  he  replied,  with  a  quiet  bitterness 
which  both  pained  and  mystified  her, 

' '  You  are  right     I  am  not  strong. ' ' 

' '  But  summer  is  near, ' '  she  resumed  earnestly.  ' '  You 
will  soon  go  to  the  country,  and  will  bring  back  this  fall 
bronze  in  plenty,  and  the  strength  of  bronze.  Mother  says 
we  shall  go  to  Saratoga.  That  is  one  of  your  favorite  haunts, 
I  believe,  so  I  shall  have  the  pleasure,  perhaps,  of  drinking 
'  your  very  good  health  '  some  bright  morning  before  break 
fast.  Which  is  your  favorite  spring  ?' ' 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  will  decide  after  I  have  learned  your 
choice." 

"  That's  an  amiable  weakness.  I  think  I  shall  like  Sara 
toga.  The  great  hotels  contain  all  one  wishes  for  amuse 
ment.  Then  everything  about  town  is  so  nice,  pretty,  and 
sociable.  The  shops,  also,  are  fine.  Too  often  we  have 
spent  our  summers  in  places  that  were  a  trifle  dreary. 
Mountains  oppress  me  with  a  sense  of  littleness,  and  their 
wildness  frightens  me.  The  ocean  is  worse  still.  The 
moment  I  am  alone  with  it,  such  a  lonely,  desolate  feeling 
creeps  over  me — oh,  I  can't  tell  you  !  I  fear  you  think  I 
am  silly  and  frivolous.  You  think  I  ought  to  be  inspired 
by  the  shaggy  mountains  and  wild  waves  and  all  that.  Well, 
you  may  think  so — I  won't  tell  fibs.  I  don't  think  moth 
er  is  frivolous,  and  she  feels  as  I  do.  We  are  from  the 
South,  and  like  things  that  are  warm,  bright,  and  sociable. 
The  ocean  always  seemed  to  me  so  large  and  cold  and  piti 
less — to  care  so  little  for  those  in  its  power. ' ' 

"  In  that  respect  it's  like  the  world,  or  rather  the  people 
in  it--" 


14  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"Oh,  no,  no  !"  she  interrupted  eagerly;  "  it  is  to  the 
•world  of  people  I  am  glad  to  escape  from  these  solitudes  of 
nature.  As  I  said,  the  latter,  with  their  vastness,  power,  and, 
worse  than  all,  their  indifference,  oppress  me,  and  make  me 
shiver  with  a  vague  dread.  I  once  saw  a  ship  beaten  to 
pieces  by  the  waves  in  a  storm.  It  was  on  the  coast  near 
where  we  were  spending  the  summer.  Some  of  the  people 
on  the  vessel  were  drowned,  and  their  cries  ring  in  my  ears 
to  this  day.  Oh,  it  was  piteous  to  see  them  reaching  out 
their  hands,  but  the  great  merciless  waves  would  not  stop  a 
moment,  even  when  a  little  time  would  have  given  the  life 
boats  a  chance  to  save  the  poor  creatures.  The  breakers  just 
struck  and  pounded  the  ship  until  it  broke  into  pieces,  and 
then  tossed  the  lifeless  body  and  broken  wood  on  the  shore 
as  if  one  were  of  no  more  value  than  the  other.  I  can' t 
think  of  it  without  shuddering,  and  I've  hated  the  sea  ever 
since,  and  never  wish  to  go  near  it  again." 

"  You  have  unconsciously  described  this  Christian  city," 
said  Arnold,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"  What  a  cynic  you  are  to-night !  You  condemn  all  the 
world,  and  find  fault  even  with  yourself — a  rare  thing  in  cynics, 
I  imagine.  As  a  rule  they  are  right,  and  the  universe  wrong. ' ' 

"  I  have  not  found  any  fault  with  you,"  he  said,  in  a  tone 
that  caused  her  long  eyelashes  to  veil  the  pleasure  she  could 
not  wholly  conceal. 

' '  I  hope  the  self-constraint  imposed  by  your  courtesy  is 
not  too  severe  for  comfort  I  also  understand  the  little  fic 
tion  of  excepting  present  company.  But  I  cannot  help  re 
membering  that  I  am  a  wee  bit  of  the  world  and  very 
worldly  ;  that  is,  I  am  very  fond  of  the  world  and  all  its 
pretty  follies.  I  like  nice  people  much  better  than  savage 
mountains  and  heartless  waves." 

' '  And  yet  you  are  not  what  I  should  call  a  society  girl, 
Miss  Millie." 


ONE   GIRL'S  IDEAL   OF  LIFE.  15 

"I'm  glad  you  think  so.  I've  no  wish  to  win  that  char 
acter.  Fashionable  society  seems  to  me  like  the  sea,  as  rest 
less  and  unreasoning,  always  on  the  go,  and  yet  never  going 
anywhere.  I  know  lots  of  girls  who  go  here  and  there  and 
do  this  and  that  with  the  monotony  with  which  the  waves  roll 
in  and  out.  Half  the  time  they  act  contrary  to  their  wishes 
and  feelings,  but  they  imagine  it  the  thing  to  do,  and  they  do 
it  till  they  are  tired  and  bored  half  to  death. ' ' 

"  What,  then,  is  your  ideal  of  life  ?" 

Her  head  drooped  a  little  lower,  and  the  tell-tale  color 
would  come  as  she  replied  hesitatingly,  and  with  a  slight 
deprecatory  laugh, 

"Well,  I  can't  say  I've  thought  it  out  very  definitely. 
Plenty  of  real  friends  seem  to  me  better  than  the  world's 
stare,  even  though  there's  a  trace  of  admiration  in  it.  Then, 
again,  you  men  so  monopolize  the  world  that  there  is  not 
much  left  for  us  poor  women  to  do  ;  but  I  have  imagined 
that  to  create  a  lovely  home,  and  to  gather  in  it  all  the 
beauty  within  one's  reach,  and  just  the  people  one  best  liked, 
would  be  a  very  congenial  life-work  for  some  women.  That 
is  what  mother  is  doing  for  us,  and  she  seems  very  happy 
and  contented — much  more  so  than  those  ladies  who  seek 
their  pleasures  beyond  their  homes.  You  see  I  use  my  eyes, 
Mr.  Arnold,  even  if  I  am  not  antiquated  enough  to  be 
wise."  ••^.-.•, 

His  look  had  grown  so  wistful  and  intent  that  she  could 
not  meet  it,  but  averted  her  face  as  she  spoke.  Suddenly  he 
sprang  up,  and  took  her  hand  with  a  pressure  all  too  strong 
for  the  "  friend  "  she  called  him,  as  he  said, 

' '  Miss  Millie,  you  are  one  of  a  thousand.     Good-night. ' ' 

For  a  few  moments  she  sat  where  he  left  her.  What  did 
he  mean  ?  Had  she  revealed  her  heart  too  plainly  ?  His 
manner  surely  had  been  unmistakable,  and  no  woman  could 
have  doubted  the  language  of  his  eyes. 


i6 


WITHOUT  A    HOME. 


' l  But  some  constraint, ' '  she  sighed,  ' '  ties  his  tongue. ' ' 
The  more  she  thought  it  over,  however — and  what  young 
girl  does  not  live  over  such  interviews  a  hundred  times — the 
more  convinced  she  became  that  her  favorite  among  the 
many  who  sought  her  favor  gave  as  much  to  her  as  she  to 
him  ;  and  she  was  shrewd  enough  to  understand  that  the 
nearer  two  people  exchange  evenly  in  these  matters  the  bet 
ter  it  is  for  both.  Her  last  thought  that  night  was,  "  To 
make  a  home  for  him  would  be  happiness  indeed.  How 
much  life  promises  me  I" 


WEAKNESS. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WEAKNESS. 

VINTON  ARNOLD'S  walk  down  Fifth  Avenue  was  so 
rapid  as  to  indicate  strong  perturbation.  At  last  he 
entered  a  large  house  of  square,  heavy  architecture,  a  crea 
tion  evidently  of  solid  wealth  in  the  earlier  days  of  the 
thoroughfare's  history.  There  was  something  in  his  step  as 
he  crossed  the  marble  hall  to  the  hat-rack  and  then  went  up 
the  stairway  that  caused  his  mother  to  pass  quickly  from  her 
sitting-room  that  she  might  intercept  him.  After  a  moment' s 
scrutiny  she  said,  in  a  low,  hard  tone, 

"  You  have  spent  the  evening  with  Miss  Jocelyn  again." 

He  made  no  reply. 

' '  Are  you  a  man  of  honor  ?' ' 

His  pallid  face  crimsoned  instantly,  and  his  hands  clenched 
with  repressed  feeling,  but  he  still  remained  silent.  Neither 
did  he  appear  to  have  the  power  to  meet  his  mother's  cold, 
penetrating  glance. 

"  It  would  seem,"  she  resumed,  in  the  same  quiet,  incisive 
tone,  ' '  that  my  former  suggestions  have  been  unheeded.  I 
fear  that  I  must  speak  more  plainly.  You  will  please  come 
with  me  for  a  few  moments. ' ' 

With  evident  reluctance  he  followed  her  to  a  small  apart 
ment,  furnished  richly,  but  with  the  taste  and  elegance  of  a 
past  generation.  He  had  become  very  pale  again,  but  his 
face  wore  the  impress  of  pain  and  irresolution  rather  than  of 
sullen  defiance  or  of  manly  independence.  The  hardness  of 


1 8  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

the  gold  that  had  been  accumulating  in  the  family  for  gen 
erations  had  seemingly  permeated  the  mother's  heart,  for  the 
expression  of  her  son's  face  softened  neither  her  tone  nor 
manner.  And  yet  not  for  a  moment  could  she  be  made  to 
think  of  herself  as  cruel,  or  even  stern.  She  was  simply  firm 
and  sensible  in  the  performance  of  her  duty.  She  was  but 
maintaining  the  traditional  policy  of  the  family,  and  was  con 
scious  that  society  would  thoroughly  approve  of  her  course. 
Chief  of  all,  she  sincerely  believed  that  she  was  promoting 
her  son's  welfare,  but  she  had  not  Mrs.  Jocelyn's  gentle  ways 
of  manifesting  solicitude. 

After  a  moment  of  oppressive  silence,  she  began, 

"  Perhaps  I  can  best  present  this  issue  in  its  true  light  b) 
again  asking,  Are  you  a  man  of  honor  ?' ' 

"Is  it  dishonorable,"  answered  her  son  irritably,  "  to 
love  a  pure,  good  girl  ?" 

"  No,"  said  his  mother,  in  the  same  quiet,  measured 
voice  ;  ' '  but  it  may  be  very  great  folly  and  a  useless  waste. 
It  is  dishonorable,  however,  to  inspire  false  hopes  in  a  girl's 
heart,  no  matter  who  she  is.  It  is  weak  and  dishonorable  to 
hover  around  a  pretty  face  like  a  poor  moth  that  singes  its 
wings. ' ' 

In  sudden,  passionate  appeal,  he  exclaimed,  "  If  I  can  win 
Miss  Jocelyn,  why  cannot  I  marry  her  ?  She  is  as  good  as 
she  is  beautiful.  If  you  knew  her  as  I  do  you  would  be 
proud  to  call  her  your  daughter.  They  live  very  prettily, 
even  elegantly — " 

By  a  simple,  deprecatory  gesture  Mrs.  Arnold  made  her 
son  feel  that  it  was  useless  to  add  another  word. 

"  Vinton,"  she  said,  "  a  little  reason  in  these  matters  is 
better  than  an  indefinite  amount  of  sentimental  nonsense. 
You  are  now  old  enough  to  be  swayed  by  reason,  and  not 
to  fume  and  fret  after  the  impossible  like  a  child.  Neither 
your  father  nor  I  have  acted  hastily  in  this  matter.  It  was  a 


WEAKNESS.  19 

great  trial  to  discover  that  you  had  allowed  your  fancy  to 
become  entangled  below  the  circle  in  which  it  is  your  privi 
lege  to  move,  and  I  am  thankful  that  my  other  children  have 
been  more  considerate.  In  a  quiet,  unobtrusive  way  we 
have  taken  pains  to  learn  all  about  the  Jocelyns.  They  are 
comparative  strangers  in  the  city.  Mr.  Jocelyn  is  merely  a 
junior  partner  in  a  large  iron  firm,  and  from  all  your  father 
says  I  fear  he  has  lived  too  elegantly  for  his  means.  That 
matter  will  soon  be  tested,  however,  for  his  firm  is  in  trouble 
and  will  probably  have  to  suspend.  With  your  health,  and 
in  the  face  of  the  fierce  competition  in  this  city,  are  you  able 
to  marry  and  support  a  penniless  girl  ?  If,  on  the  contrary, 
you  propose  to  support  a  wife  on  the  property  that  now 
belongs  to  your  father  and  myself,  our  wishes  should  have 
some  weight.  I  tell  you  frankly  that  our  means,  though 
large,  are  not  sufficient  to  make  you  all  independent  and 
maintain  the  style  to  which  you  have  been  accustomed. 
With  your  frail  health  and  need  of  exemption  from  care  and 
toil,  you  must  marry  wealth.  Your  father  is  well  satisfied 
that  whoever  allies  himself  to  this  Jocelyn  family  may  soon 
have  them  all  on  his  hands  to  support.  We  decline  the  risk 
of  burdening  ourselves  with  these  unknown,  uncongenial 
people.  Is  there  anything  unreasonable  in  that  ?  Because 
you  are  fascinated  by  a  pretty  face,  of  which  there  are  thou 
sands  in  this  city,  must  we  be  forced  into  intimate  associa 
tions  with  people  that  are  wholly  distasteful  to  us  ?  This 
would  be  a  poor  return  for  having  shielded  you  so  carefully 
through  years  of  ill  health  and  feebleness." 

The  young  man's  head  drooped  lower  and  lower  as  his 
mother  spoke,  and  his  whole  air  was  one  of  utter  despond 
ency.  She  waited  for  his  reply,  but  for  a  few  moments  he 
did  not  speak.  Suddenly  he  looked  up,  with  a  reckless, 
characteristic  laugh,  and  said, 

"  The  Spartans  were  right  in  destroying  the  feeble  chil- 


20  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

dren.  Since  I  am  under  such  obligations,  I  cannot  resist  your 
logic,  and  I  admit  that  it  would  be  poor  taste  on  my  part 
to  ask  you  to  support  for  me  a  wife  not  of  your  choosing." 

' '  '  Good  taste '  at  least  should  have  prevented  such  a  re 
mark.  You  can  choose  for  yourself  from  a  score  of  fine 
girls  of  your  own  station  in  rank  and  wealth." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  would  rather  not  inflict  my  weakness 
on  any  of  the  score. ' ' 

' '  But  you  would  inflict  it  on  one  weak  in  social  position 
and  without  any  means  of  support. ' ' 

"  She  is  the  one  girl  that  I  have  met  with  who  seemed 
both  gentle  and  strong,  and  whose  tastes  harmonize  with  my 
own.  But  you  don't  know  her,  and  never  will.  You  have 
only  learned  external  facts  about  the  Jocelyns,  and  out  of 
your  prejudices  have  created  a  family  of  underbred  people 
that  does  not  exist.  Their  crime  of  comparative  poverty  I 
cannot  dispute.  I  have  not  made  the  prudential  inquiries 
which  you  and  father  have  gone  into  so  carefully.  But  your 
logic  is  inexorable.  As  you  suggest,  I  could  not  earn 
enough  myself  to  provide  a  wife  with  hairpins.  The  slight 
considerations  of  happiness,  and  the  fact  that  Miss  Jocelyn 
might  aid  me  in  becoming  something  more  than  a  shadow 
among  men,  are  not  to  be  urged  against  the  solid  reasons 
you  have  named." 

"  Young  people  always  give  a  tragic  aspect  to  these  crude 
passing  fancies.  I  have  known  '  blighted  happiness  '  to  bud 
and  blossom  again  so  often  that  you  must  pardon  me  if  I  act 
rather  on  the  ground  of  experience  arid  good  sense.  An 
unsuitable  alliance  may  bring  brief  gratification  and  pleasure, 
but  never  happiness,  never  lasting  and  solid  content." 

"  Well,  mother,  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  argue  with 
you,  either  in  the  abstract  or  as  to  these  '  wise  saws  '  which  so 
mangle  my  wretched  self,"  and  with  the  air  of  one  exhausted 
and  defeated  he  languidly  went  to  his  room. 


WEAKNESS.  21 

Mrs.  Arnold  frowned  as  she  muttered,  "  He  makes  no 
promise  to  cease  visiting  the  girl. ' '  After  a  moment  she 
added,  even  more  bitterly,  ' '  I  doubt  whether  he  could  keep 
such  a  promise  ;  therefore  my  will  must  supply  his  lack  of  de 
cision  ;' '  and  she  certainly  appeared  capable  of  making  good 
this  deficiency  in  several  human  atoms. 

If  she  could  have  imparted  some  of  her  firmness  and  reso 
lution  to  Martin  Jocelyn,  they  would  have  been  among  the 
most  useful  gifts  a  man  ever  received.  As  the  stanchness 
of  a  ship  is  tested  by  the  storm,  so  a  crisis  in  his  experience 
was  approaching  which  would  test  his  courage,  his  fortitude, 
and  the  general  soundness  of  his  manhood.  Alas  !  the  test 
would  find  him  wanting.  That  night,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  he  came  home  with  a  step  a  trifle  unsteady.  Innocent 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  did  not  note  that  anything  was  amiss.  She 
was  busy  putting  her  home  into  its  usual  pretty  order  after 
the  breezy,  gusty  evening  always  occasioned  by  one  of  Belle's 
informal  companies.  She  observed  that  her  husband  had  re 
covered  more  than  his  wonted  cheerfulness,  and  seemed  in- 
deed  as  gay  as  Belle  herself.  Lounging  on  a  sofa,  he  laughed 
at  his  wife  and  petted  her  more  than  usual,  assuring  her  that 
her  step  was  as  light,  and  that  she  still  looked  as  young  and 
pretty  as  any  of  the  girls  who  had  tripped  through  the  parlors 
that  evening. 

The  trusting,  happy  wife  grew  so  rosy  with  pleasure,  and 
her  tread  was  so  elastic  from  maternal  pride  and  exultation 
at  the  prospects  of  her  daughters,  that  his  compliments  seemed 
scarcely  exaggerated. 

"  Never  fear,  Nan,"  he  said,  in  a  gush  of  feeling  ;  "I'll 
take  care  of  you,  whatever  happens, ' '  and  the  glad  smile  she 
turned  upon  him  proved  that  she  doubted  his  words  no  more 
than  her  own  existence. 

They  were  eminently  proper  words  for  a  husband  to  ad 
dress  to  his  wife,  but  the  circumstances  under  which  they 


22  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

were  uttered  made  them  maudlin  sentiment  rather  than  a 
manly  pledge.  As  spoken,  they  were  so  ominous  that  the 
loving  woman  might  well  have  trembled  and  lost  her  girlish 
flush.  But  even  through  the  lurid  hopes  and  vague  pros 
pects  created  by  dangerous  stimulants,  Mr.  Jocelyn  saw, 
dimly,  the  spectre  of  coming  trouble,  and  he  added, 

"  But,  Nan,  we  must  economize — we  really  must" 

"Foolish  man!"  laughed  his  wife;  "  always  preaching 
economy,  but  never  practising  it." 

"  Would  to  God  I  had  millions  to  lavish  on  you  !"  he  ex 
claimed,  with  tears  of  mawkish  feeling  and  honest  affection 
mingled  as  they  never  should  in  a  true  man's  eyes. 

' '  Lavish  your  love,  Martin, ' '  replied  the  wife,  ' '  and 
I'll  be  content." 

That  night  she  laid  her  head  upon  her  pillow  without  mis 
giving. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  the  daughter  of  a  Southern  planter,  and 
in  her  early  home  had  been  accustomed  to  a  condition  of 
chronic  financial  embarrassment  and  easy  -  going,  careless 
abundance.  The  war  had  swept  away  her  father  and 
brothers  with  the  last  remnant  of  the  mortgaged  property. 

Young  Jocelyn' s  antecedents  had  been  somewhat  similar, 
and  they  had  married  much  as  the  birds  pair,  without  know 
ing  very  definitely  where  or  how  the  home  nest  would  be 
constructed.  He,  however,  had  secured  a  good  education, 
and  was  endowed  with  fair  business  capacities.  He  was  thus 
enabled  for  a  brief  time  before  the  war  to  provide  a  comfort 
able  support  in  a  Southern  city  for  his  wife  and  little  daughter 
Mildred,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  a  gentleman  by  birth  and 
breeding  gave  him  better  social  advantages  than  mere  wealth 
could  have  obtained.  At  the  beginning  of  the  struggle  he 
was  given  a  commission  in  the  Confederate  army,  but  with 
the  exception  of  a  few  slight  scratches  and  many  hardships 
escaped  unharmed.  After  the  conflict  was  over,  the  ex- 


WEAKNESS.  23 

officer  came  to  the  North,  against  which  he  had  so  bravely 
and  zealously  fought,  and  was  pleased  to  find  that  there  was 
no  prejudice  worth  naming  against  him  on  this  account. 
His  good  record  enabled  him  to  obtain  a  position  in  a  large 
iron  warehouse,  and  in  consideration  of  his  ability  to  control 
a  certain  amount  of  Southern  trade  he  was  eventually  given 
an  interest  in  the  business.  This  apparent  advancement  in 
duced  him  to  believe  that  he  might  safely  rent,  in  one  of  the 
many  cross-streets  up  town,  the  pretty  home  in  which  we  find 
him.  The  fact  that  their  expenses  had  always  a  little  more 
than  kept  pace  with  their  income  did  not  trouble  Mrs.  Joce- 
lyn,  for  she  had  been  accustomed  to  an  annual  deficit  from 
childhood.  Some  way  had  always  been  provided,  and  she 
had  a  sort  of  blind  faith  that  some  way  always  would  be. 
Mr.  Jocelyn  also  had  fallen  into  rather  soldier-like  ways,  and 
after  being  so  free  with  Confederate  scrip,  with  difficulty 
learned  the  value  of  paper  money  of  a  different  color. 

Moreover,  in  addition  to  a  certain  lack  of  foresight  and  fru 
gal  prudence,  bred  by  army  life  and  Southern  open-hearted- 
ness,  he  cherished  a  secret  habit  which  rendered  a  wise,  steadily 
maintained  policy  of  thrift  well-nigh  impossible.  About  two 
years  before  the  opening  of  our  story  he  had  been  the  victim  of 
a  painful  disease,  the  evil  effects  of  which  did  not  speedily  pass 
away.  For  several  weeks  of  this  period,  to  quiet  the  pain, 
he  was  given  morphia  powders  ;  their  effects  were  so  agree 
able  that  they  were  not  discontinued  after  the  physician 
ceased  to  prescribe  them.  The  subtle  stimulant  not  only 
banished  the  lingering  traces  of  suffering,  but  enabled  him 
to  resume  the  routine  of  business  with  comparative  ease  much 
sooner  than  he  had  expected.  Thus  he  gradually  drifted  into 
the  habitual  use  of  morphia,  taking  it  as  a  panacea  for  every 
ill.  Had  he  a  toothache,  a  rheumatic  or  neuralgic  twinge, 
the  drug  quieted  the  pain.  Was  he  despondent  from  any 
cause,  or  annoyed  by  some  untoward  event,  a  small  white 


24  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

powder  soon  brought  hopefulness  and  serenity.  When 
emergencies  occurred  which  promised  to  tax  his  mental  and 
physical  powers,  opium  appeared  to  give  a  clearness  and 
elasticity  of  mind  and  a  bodily  vigor  that  was  almost  magical, 
and  he  availed  himself  of  the  deceptive  potency  more  and 
more  often. 

The  morbid  craving  which  the  drug  inevitably  engenders 
at  last  demanded  a  daily  supply.  For  months  he  employed 
it  in  moderate  quantities,  using  it  as  thousands  do  quinine, 
wine,  or  other  stimulants,  without  giving  much  thought  to 
the  matter,  sincerely  intending,  however,  to  shake  off  the 
habit  as  soon  as  he  felt  a  little  stronger  and  was  more  free 
from  business  cares.  Still,  as  the  employment  of  the  stimu 
lant  grew  into  a  habit,  he  became  somewhat  ashamed  of  it, 
and  maintained  his  indulgence  with  increasing  secrecy — a 
characteristic  rarely  absent  from  this  vice. 

Thus  it  can  be  understood  that  his  mind  had  ceased  to 
possess  the  natural  poise  which  would  enable  him  to  manage 
his  affairs  in  accordance  with  some  wisely  matured  system  of 
expenditure.  In  times  of  depression  he  would  demand  the 
most  rigid  economy,  and  again  he  would  seem  careless  and 
indifferent  and  preoccupied.  This  financial  vacillation  was 
precisely  what  his  wife  had  been  accustomed  to  in  her  early 
home,  and  she  thoughtlessly  took  her  way  without  much  re 
gard  to  it.  He  also  had  little  power  of  saying  No  to  his 
gentle  wife,  and  an  appealing  look  from  her  blue  eyes  would 
settle  every  question  of  economy  the  wrong  way.  Next  year 
they  would  be  more  prudent ;  at  present,  however,  there 
were  some  things  that  it  would  be  very  nice  to  have  or  to  do. 

But,  alas,  Mrs.  Jocelyn  had  decided  that,  for  Mildred's 
sake,  the  coming  summer  must  be  spent  at  Saratoga.  In 
vain  her  husband  had  told  her  that  he  did  not  see  how  it  was 
possible.  She  would  reply, 

"  Now,  Martin,  be  reasonable.     You  know  Mr.  Arnold 


WEAKNESS.  25 

spends  his  summers  there.  Would  you  spoil  Millie' s  chances 
of  making  one  of  the  best  matches  in  the  city  ?" 

He  would  shrug  his  shoulders  and  wonder  where  the 
money  was  to  come  from.  Meanwhile  he  knew  that  his  part 
ners  were  .anxious.  They  had  been  strong,  and  had  endured 
the  evil  times  for  years  without  wavering,  but  now  were  com 
pelled  to  obtain  a  credit  more  and  more  extended,  in  the 
hope  of  tiding  themselves  over  the  long  period  of  depression. 

This  increasing  business  stagnation  occasioned  a  deepening 
anxiety  to  her  husband  and  a  larger  resort  to  his  sustaining 
stimulant.  While  he  had  no  sense  of  danger  worth  naming, 
he  grew  somewhat  worried  by  his  dependence  on  the  drug, 
and  it  was  his  honest  purpose  to  gradually  abandon  it  as 
soon  as  the  financial  pressure  lifted  and  he  could  breathe 
freely  in  the  safety  of  renewed  commercial  prosperity.  Thus 
the  weeks  and  months  slipped  by,  finding  him  more  com 
pletely  involved  in  the  films  of  an  evil  web,  and  more  intent 
than  ever  upon  hiding  the  fact  from  every  one,  especially 
his  wife  and  children. 

He  had  returned  on  the  evening  of  Belle's  company,  with 
fears  for  the  worst  The  scene  in  his  pretty  and  happy  home, 
in  contrast  with  the  bitter  experiences  that  might  be  near  at 
hand,  so  oppressed  him  with  foreboding  and  trouble  that  he 
went  out  and  weakly  sought  temporary  respite  and  courage 
in  a  larger  amount  of  morphia  than  he  had  ever  yet  taken. 

While  off  his  guard  from  the  resulting  exaltation,  he  met 
a  business  acquaintance  and  was  led  by  him  to  indulge  in 
wine  also,  with  the  results  already  narrated. 


26  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 


CHAPTER   III. 

CONFIDENTIAL. 

MARTIN  JOCELYN  awoke  with  a  shiver.  He  did 
not  remember  that  he  had  been  dreaming,  but  a  dull 
pain  in  his  head  and  a  foreboding  of  heart  had  at  last  so 
asserted  themselves  as  to  banish  the  unconsciousness  of  sleep. 
His  prospects  had  even  a  more  sombre  hue  than  the  cold 
gray  of  the  morning.  All  the  false  prismatic  colors  of  the 
previous  evening  had  faded,  and  no  serene,  steady  light  had 
taken  their  place.  The  forced  elation  was  followed — as  is 
ever  the  case — by  a  deeper  despondency.  The  face  of  his 
sleeping  wife  was  so  peaceful,  so  expressive  of  her  utter  un 
consciousness  of  impending  disaster,  that  he  could  not  en 
dure  its  sight.  He  felt  himself  to  be  in  no  condition  to  meet 
her  waking  eyes  and  explain  the  cause  of  his  fears.  A  sense 
of  shame  that  he  had  been  so  weak  the  evening  before  also 
oppressed  him,  and  he  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  gain  a  day 
before  meeting  her  trusting  or  questioning  gaze.  Something 
might  occur  which  would  give  a  better  aspect  to  his  affairs, 
and  at  any  rate,  if  the  worst  must  come,  he  could  explain 
with  better  grace  in  the  evening  than  in  his  present  wretched 
mood,  that  would  prove  too  sharp  a  contrast  with  his  recent 
gayety. 

He  therefore  dressed  silently  and  hastily,  and  left  a  note 
saying  that  a  business  engagement  required  his  early  depart 
ure.  "  She  will  have  at  least  one  more  serene  day  before 
the  storm, ' '  he  muttered. 


CONFIDENTIAL.  27 

"  Now  wasn'  t  that  kind  and  thoughtful  of  papa  to  let  us 
all  sleep  late  after  the  company  !"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn  to  Mil 
dred.  ' '  He  went  away,  too,  without  his  breakfast, ' '  and  in 
her  gentle  solicitude  she  scarcely  ate  any  herself. 

But  weakly  hiding  trouble  for  a  day  was  not  kindness. 
The  wife  and  daughter,  who  should  have  helped  to  take  in 
sail  in  preparation  for  the  threatened  storm,  were  left  uncon 
scious  of  its  approach.  They  might  have  noticed  that  Mr. 
Jocelyn  had  been  more  than  usually  anxious  throughout  the 
spring,  but  they  knew  so  little  of  business  and  its  risks,  that 
they  did  not  realize  their  danger.  "  Men  always  worry 
about  their  affairs,"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn.  "It's  a  way  they 
have. ' ' 

Mr.  Arnold's  visits  and  manner  were  much  more  con 
genial  topics,  and  as  a  result  of  the  entire  confidence  existing 
between  mother  and  daughter,  they  dwelt  at  length  on  these 
subjects. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Mildred,  "you  must  not  breathe  of  it 
to  a  soul — not  even  to  papa  yet.  It  would  hurt  me  cruelly 
to  have  it  known  that  I  think  so  much  of  one  who  has  not 
spoken  plainly — that  is,  in  words.  I  should  be  blind  indeed 
if  I  did  not  understand  the  language  of  his  eyes,  his  tones, 
and  manner.  And  yet,  and  yet — mamma,  it  isn't  wrong  for 
me  to  love — to  think  so  much  of  him  before  he  speaks,  is 
it  ?  Dearly  as  I — well,  not  for  the  world  would  I  seem  or 
even  be  more  forward  than  a  girl  should,  I  fear  his  people 
are  too  proud  and  rich  to  recognize  us  ;  and — and — he  says 
so  little  about  them.  I  can  never  talk  to  him  or  any  one 
v/ithout  making  many  references  to  you  and  papa.  I  have 
thought  that  he  even  avoided  speaking  of  his  family." 

"  We  have  not  yet  been  made  acquainted  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Arnold,"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn  meditatively.  "  It  is  true 
we  attend  the  same  church,  and  it  was  there  that  Vinton  saw 
you,  and  was  led  to  seek  an  introduction.  I'm  sure  we  have 


28  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

not  angled  for  him  in  any  indelicate  way.  You  met  him  in 
the  mission  school  and  in  other  ways,  as  did  the  other  young 
ladies  of  the  church.  He  seemed  to  single  you  out,  and 
asked  permission  to  call.  He  has  been  very  gentlemanly, 
but  you  equally  have  been  the  self-respecting  lady.  I  do  not 
think  you  have  once  overstepped  the  line  of  a  proper  reserve. 
It  isn't  your  nature  to  do  such  a  thing,  if  I  do  say  it.  She 
is  a  silly  girl  who  ever  does,  for  men  don' t  like  it,  and  I 
don' t  blame  them.  Your  father  was  a  great  hunter  in  the 
South,  Millie,  and  he  has  often  said  since  that  I  was  the  shy 
est  game  he  ever  followed.  But, ' '  she  added,  with  a  low, 
sweet  laugh,  "  how  I  did  want  to  be  caught !  I  can  see 
now,"  she  continued,  with  a  dreamy  look  back  into  the 
past,  "  that  it  was  just  the  way  to  be  caught,  for  if  I  had 
turned  in  pursuit  of  him  he  would  have  run  away  in  good 
earnest.  There  are  some  girls  who  have  set  their  caps  for 
your  handsome  Mr.  Arnold  who  don't  know  this.  I  am 
glad  to  say,  however,  that  you  take  the  course  you  do,  not 
because  you  know  better,  but  because  you  are  better — be 
cause  you  have  not  lost  in  city  life  the  shy,  pure  nature  of 
the  wild  flowers  that  were  your  early  playmates.  Vinton 
Arnold  is  the  man  to  discover  and  appreciate  this  truth,  and 
you  have  lost  nothing  by  compelling  him  to  seek  you  in 
your  own  home,  or  by  being  so  reserved  when  abroad." 

While  her  mother's  words  greatly  reassured  Mildred,  her 
fair  face  still  retained  its  look  of  anxious  perplexity. 

"  I  have  rarely  met  Mrs.  Arnold  and  her  daughters,"  she 
said  ;  "  but  even  in  a  passing  moment,  it  seemed  as  if  they 
tried  to  inform  me  by  their  manner  that  I  did  not  belong  to 
their  world.  Perhaps  they  were  only  oblivious — I  don't 
know. ' ' 

"  I  think  that  is  all,"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn  musingly. 
"  We  have  attended  their  church  only  since  we  came  up 
town.  They  sit  on  the  farther  side,  in  a  very  expensive  pew, 


CONFIDENTIAL.  29 

while  papa  thinks  we  can  afford  only  a  side  seat  near  the 
door.  It  is  evident  that  they  are  proud  people,  but  in  the 
matter  of  birth  and  good  breeding,  my  dear,  I  am  sure  we 
are  their  equals.  Even  when  poorer  than  we  are  now  we 
were  welcomed  to  the  best  society  of  the  South.  Have  no 
fears,  darling.  When  they  come  to  know  you  they  will  be 
as  proud  of  you  as  I  am. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  mother,  what  a  sweet  prophetess  you  are  !  The  life 
you  suggest  is  so  beautiful,  and  I  do  not  think  I  could  live 
without  beauty.  He  is  so  handsome  and  refined,  and  his 
taste  is  so  perfect  that  every  association  he  awakens  is  refined 
and  high-toned.  It  seems  as  if  my — as  if  he  might  take  out 
of  my  future  all  that  is  hard  and  coarse — all  that  I  shrink 
from  even  in  thought.  But,  mamma,  I  wish  he  were  a  wee 
bit  stronger.  His  hands  are  almost  as  white  and  small  as 
mine  ;  and  then  sometimes  he  is  so  very  pale. ' ' 

"  Well,  Millie,  we  can't  have  everything.  City  life  and 
luxury  are  hard  on  young  men.  It  would  be  better  for  them 
if  they  tramped  the  woods  more  with  a  gun,  as  your  father 
did.  There  was  a  time  when  papa  could  walk  his  thirty 
miles  a  day  and  ride  fifty.  But  manly  qualities  may  be  those 
of  the  mind  as  well  as  of  muscle.  I  gather  from  what  Mr. 
Arnold  says  that  his  health  never  has  been  very  good  ;  but 
you  are  the  one  of  all  the  world  to  pet  him  and  take  care  of 
him.  Most  of  the  fashionable  girls  of  his  set  would  want  to 
go  here  and  there  all  the  time,  and  would  wear  him  out  with 
their  restlessness.  You  would  be  happier  at  home." 

"  Indeed  I  would,  mamma.  Home,  and  heaven,  are  words 
that  to  me  are  near  akin. ' ' 

"I'm  glad  you  are  in  such  a  fair  way  to  win  the  home,  but 
not  heaven  I  trust  for  a  long  time  yet.  Let  us  think  of  the 
home  first.  While  I  would  not  for  the  world  wish  you  to  do 
a  thing  which  the  strictest  womanly  delicacy  did  not  permit, 
there  are  some  things  which  we  can  do  that  are  very  proper 


3°  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

indeed.  Mr.  Arnold  has  an  eye  for  beauty  as  well  as  your 
self,  and  he  is  accustomed  to  see  ladies  well  dressed.  He 
noticed  your  toilet  last  night  as  well  as  your  face,  and  his  big 
brown  eyes  informed  me  that  he  thought  it  very  pretty.  I 
intend  that  you  shall  appear  as  well  as  the  best  of  them  at 
Saratoga,  and  what  we  cannot  afford  in  expensive  fabrics  we 
must  make  up  in  skill  and  taste.  Luckily,  men  don't  know 
much  about  the  cost  of  material.  They  see  the  general  effect 
only.  A  lady  is  to  them  a  finished  picture,  and  they  never 
think  of  inventorying  the  frame,  canvas,  and  colors  as  a 
woman  does.  For  quarter  of  the  money  I'  11  make  you  ap 
pear  better  than  his  sisters.  So  get  your  things,  and  we'll 
begin  shopping  at  once,  for  such  nice  work  requires  time." 
They  were  soon  in  the  temples  of  fashion  on  Broadway, 
bent  upon  carrying  out  their  guileless  conspiracy.  Neverthe 
less  their  seemingly  innocent  and  harmless  action  was 
wretched  folly.  They  did  not  know  that  it  raised  one  more 
barrier  between  them  and  all  they  sought  and  hoped,  for  they 
were  spending  the  little  money  that  might  save  them  from 
sudden  and  utter  poverty. 


"PITILESS  WAVES."  31 


CHAPTER   IV. 

"PITILESS    WAVES." 

A  DEEPER  shadow  than  that  of  the  night  fell  upon 
Mildred  Jocelyn'  s  home  after  the  return  of  her  father. 
Feeling  that  there  should  be  no  more  blind  drifting  toward 
he  knew  not  what,  he  had  employed  all  the  means  within 
his  power  to  inform  himself  of  the  firm's  prospects,  and  learned 
that  there  was  almost  a  certainty  of  speedy  failure.  He  was 
so  depressed  and  gloomy  when  he  sat  down  to  dinner  that 
his  wife  had  not  the  heart  to  tell  him  of  her  schemes  to  secure 
his  daughter's  happiness,  or  of  the  gossamer-like  fabrics  she 
had  bought,  out  of  which  she  hoped  to  construct  a  web  that 
would  more  surely  entangle  Mr.  Arnold.  Even  her  sanguine 
spirit  was  chilled  and  filled  with  misgivings  by  her  husband's 
manner.  Mildred,  too,  was  speedily  made  to  feel  that  only 
a  very  serious  cause  could  banish  her  father's  wonted  good- 
humor  and  render  him  so  silent.  Belle  and  the  little  ones 
maintained  the  light  talk  which  usually  enlivened  the  meal, 
but  a  sad  constraint  rested  on  the  others.  At  last  Mr.  Joce 
lyn  said,  abruptly,  ' '  Fanny,  I  wish  to  see  you  alone, ' '  and 
she  followed  him  to  their  room  with  a  face  that  grew  pale 
with  a  vague  dread.  What  could  have  happened  ? 

"  Fanny,"  he  said  sadly,  "  our  firm  is  in  trouble.  I 
have  hoped  and  have  tried  to  believe  that  we  should  pull 
through,  but  now  that  I  have  looked  at  the  matter  squarely 
I  see  no  chance  for  us,  and  from  the  words  and  bearing  of 
my  partners  I  imagine  they  have  about  given  up  hope  them 
selves.  ' ' 


32  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

"  Oh,  come,  Martin,  look  on  the  bright  side.  Yon 
always  take  such  gloomy  views  of  things.  They'll  pull 
through,  never  fear  ;  and  if  they  don't,  you  will  soon  obtain 
a  better  position.  A  man  of  your  ability  should  be  at  the 
head  of  a  firm.  You  would  make  money,  no  matter  what  the 
times  were." 

' '  Unfortunately,  Fanny,  your  sanguine  hopes  and  absurd 
opinion  of  my  abilities  do  not  change  in  the  least  the  hard 
facts  in  the  case.  If  the  firm  fails,  I  am  out  of  employment, 
and  hundreds  of  as  good — yes,  better  men  than  I,  are  look 
ing  vainly  for  almost  any  kind  of  work.  The  thought  that 
we  have  laid  up  nothing  in  all  these  years  cut  me  to  the  very 
quick.  One  thing  is  now  certain.  Not  a  dollar  must  be 
spent,  hereafter,  except  for  food,  and  that  of  the  least  costly 
kind,  until  I  see  our  way  more  clearly. ' ' 

"  Gan't  we  go  to  Saratoga  ?"  faltered  Mrs.  Jocelyn. 

"  Certainly  not.  If  all  were  well  I  should  have  had  to 
borrow  money  and  anticipate  my  income  in  order  to  spend 
2ven  a  few  weeks  there,  unless  you  went  to  a  cheap  boarding- 
house.  If  things  turn  out  as  I  fear,  I  could  not  borrow  a 
dollar.  I  scarcely  see  how  we  are  to  live  anywhere,  much 
Jess  at  a  Saratoga  hotel.  Fanny,  can't  you  understand  my 
situation  ?  Suppose  my  income  stops,  how  much  ahead  have 
we  to  live  upon  ?' ' 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  sank  into  a  chair  and  sobbed,  "  Oh  that  I 
had  known  this  before  .'  See  there  !" 

The  bed  was  covered  with  dress  goods  and  the  airy  noth 
ings  that  enhance  a  girl's  beauty.  The  husband  understood 
their  meaning  too  well,  and  he  muttered  something  like  an 
oath.  At  last  he  said,  in  a  hard  tone,  "  Well,  after  buying 
all  this  frippery,  how  much  money  have  you  left  ?" 

"  Oh,  Martin,"  sobbed  his  wife,  "  don't  speak  to  me  in 
that  tone.  Indeed  I  did  not  know  we  were  in  real  danger. 
You  seemed  in  such  good  spirits  last  evening,  and  Mr. 


"PITILESS  WAVES."  33 

Arnold  showed  so  much  feeling  for  Millie,  that  my  heart  has 
been  as  light  as  a  feather  all  day.  I  wouldn'  t  have  bought 
these  things  if  I  had  only  known — if  I  had  realized  it  all. ' ' 

Mr.  Jocelyn  now  uttered  an  unmistakable  anathema  on 
his  folly. 

"  The  money  you  had  this  morning  is  gone,  then  ?" 

"Yes." 

' '  How  much  has  been  charged  ?' ' 

' '  Don' t  ask  me. ' ' 

He  was  so  angry — with  himself  more  than  his  wife — and 
so  cast  down  that  he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak  again. 
With  a  gesture,  more  expressive  than  any  words,  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  left  the  room  and  the  house.  For  hours  he 
walked  the  streets  in  the  wretched  turmoil  of  a  sensitive,  yet 
weak  nature.  He  was  not  one  who  could  calmly  meet  an 
emergency  and  manfully  do  his  best,  suffering  patiently 
meanwhile  the  ills  that  could  not  be  averted.  He  could  lead 
a  cavalry  charge  into  any  kind  of  danger,  but  he  could  not 
stand  still  under  fire.  The  temptation  to  repeat  his  folly  of 
the  previous  evening  was  very  strong,  but  it  had  cost  him  so 
dearly  that  he  swore  a  great  oath  that  at  least  he  would  not 
touch  liquor  again  ;  but  he  could  not  refrain  from  lifting 
himself  in  some  degree  out  of  his  deep  dejection,  by  a  re 
course  to  the  stimulant  upon  which  he  had  so  long  been  de 
pendent.  At  last,  jaded  and  sober  indeed,  he  returned  to  a 
home  whose  very  beauty  and  comfort  now  became  the  chief 
means  of  his  torture. 

In  the  mean  time  Mildred  and  her  mother  sat  by  the  pretty 
fabrics  that  had  the  bright  hues  of  their  morning  hopes,  and 
they  looked  at  each  other  with  tears  and  dismay.  If  the  silk 
and  lawn  should  turn  into  crape,  it  would  seem  so  in  accord 
ance  with  their  feelings  as  scarcely  to  excite  surprise.  Each 
queried  vainly,  ' '  What  now  will  be  the  future  ?' '  The 
golden  prospect  of  the  day  had  become  dark  and  chaotic,  and 


34  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

in  strong  reaction  a  vague  sense  of  impending  disaster  so  op 
pressed  them  that  they  scarcely  spoke.  Deep  in  Mildred's 
heart,  however,  born  of  woman's  trust,  was  the  sustaining 
hope  that  her  friend,  Vinton  Arnold,  would  be  true  to  her 
whatever  might  happen.  Poor  Mrs.  Jocelyn'  s  best  hope  was, 
that  the  financial  storm  would  blow  over  without  fulfilling 
their  fears.  She  had  often  known  her  father  to  be  half  des 
perate,  and  then  there  was  patched  up  some  kind  of  ar 
rangement  which  enabled  them  to  go  on  again  in  their  old 
way.  Still,  even  with  her  unbusiness-like  habits  of  thought 
and  meagre  knowledge  of  the  world,  she  could  not  see  how 
they  could  maintain  themselves  if  her  husband's  income 
should  suddenly  cease,  and  he  be  unable  to  find  a  like 
position. 

She  longed  for  his  return,  but  when  he  came  he  gave  her 
no  comfort. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,"  he  said  ;  "  I  can  tell  you  nothing 
that  you  do  not  already  know.  The  events  of  the  next  few 
weeks  will  make  all  plain  enough." 

The  logic  of  events  did  convince  even  Mrs.  Jocelyn  that 
making  no  provision  for  a  ' '  rainy  day' '  is  sad  policy.  The 
storm  did  not  blow  over,  although  it  blew  steadily  and 
strongly.  The  firm  soon  failed,  but  Mr.  Jocelyn  received  a 
small  sum  out  of  the  assets,  which  prevented  immediate  want. 
Mildred's  course  promised  to  justify  Arnold's  belief  that  she 
could  be  strong  as  well  as  gentle,  for  she  insisted  that  every 
article  obtained  on  credit  should  be  taken  back  to  the  shops. 
Her  mother  shrank  from  the  task,  so  she  went  herself  and 
plainly  stated  their  circumstances.  It  was  a  bitter  experience 
for  the  poor  child — far  more  painful  than  she  had  antici 
pated.  She  could  not  believe  that  the  affable  people  who 
waited  on  her  so  smilingly  a  few  days  before  would  appear  so 
different ;  but  even  those  who  were  most  inclined  to  be  harsh, 
and  to  feel  aggrieved  at  their  small  loss  in  cutting  the  material 


"PITILESS  WAVES."  35 

returned,  were  softened  as  she  said,  gently  and  almost 
humbly  : 

' '  Since  we  could  not  pay  for  it  we  felt  that  it  would  be 
more  honorable  to  bring  it  back  in  as  good  condition  as 
when  received."  In  every  instance,  however,  in  which  the 
goods  had  been  paid  for,  she  found  that  she  could  effect  no 
exchange  for  the  money,  except  at  such  reduced  rates  that  she 
might  as  well  give  them  away. 

Even  Mrs.  Jocelyn  saw  the  need  of  immediate  changes. 
One  of  their  two  servants  was  dismissed.  Belle  pouted  over 
the  rigid  economy,  now  enforced  all  too  late.  Mildred  cried 
over  it  in  secret,  but  made  heroic  efforts  to  be  cheerful  in  the 
presence  of  her  father  and  mother  ;  but  each  day,  with  a 
deeper  chill  at  heart,  she  asked  herself  a  thousand  times, 
"  Why  does  not  Mr.  Arnold  come  to  see  me  ?" 

Vinton  Arnold  was  in  even  greater  distress.  He  had  to 
endure  not  only  the  pain  of  a  repressed  affection,  but  also  a 
galling  and  humiliating  sense  of  unmanly  weakness.  He,  of 
course,  learned  of  the  failure,  and  his  father  soon  after  took 
pains  to  say  significantly  that  one  of  the  members  of  the  iron 
firm  had  told  him  that  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  nothing  to  fall  back 
upon.  Therefore  Arnold  knew  that  the  girl  he  loved  must 
be  in  sore  trouble.  And  yet,  how  could  he  go  to  her  ? 
What  could  he  say  or  do  that  would  not  make  him  appear 
contemptible  in  her  eyes  ?  But  to  remain  away  in  her  hour 
of  misfortune  seemed  such  a  manifestation  of  heartless  in 
difference,  such  a  mean  example  of  the  world's  tendency  to 
pass  by  on  the  other  side,  that  he  grew  haggard  and  ghost 
like  in  his  self-reproach  and  self-contempt.  At  last  his 
parents  began  to  insist  that  his  health  required  a  change  of 
air,  and  suggested  a  mountain  resort  or  a  trip  abroad,  and 
he  was  conscious  of  no  power  to  resist  the  quiet  will  with 
which  any  plan  decided  upon  would  be  carried  out.  He  felt 
that  he  must  see  Mildred  once  more,  although  what  he 


36  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

would  say  to  her  he  could  not  tell.  While  there  had  been 
no  conscious  and  definite  purpose  on  the  part  of  his  parents, 
they  nevertheless  had  trained  him  to  helplessness  in  mind 
and  body.  His  will  was  as  relaxed  as  his  muscles.  Instead 
of  wise,  patient  effort  to  develop  a  feeble  constitution  and  to 
educate  his  mind  by  systematic  courses  of  study,  he  had 
been  treated  as  an  exotic  all  his  days.  And  yet  it  had  been 
care  without  tenderness,  or  much  manifestation  of  affection. 
Not  a  thing  had  been  done  to  develop  self-respect  or  self- 
reliance.  Even  more  than  most  girls,  he  was  made  to  feel 
himself  dependent  on  his  parents.  He  had  studied  but 
little  ;  he  had  read  much,  but  in  a  desultory  way.  Of  busi 
ness  and  of  men's  prompt,  keen  ways  he  was  lamentably 
ignorant  for  one  of  his  years,  and  the  consciousness  of  this 
made  him  shrink  from  the  companionship  of  his  own  sex, 
and  begat  a  reticence  whose  chief  cause  was  timidity.  His 
parents'  wealth  had  been  nothing  but  a  curse,  and  they  would 
learn  eventually  that  while  they  could  shield  his  person  from 
the  roughnesses  of  the  world  they  could  not  protect  his  mind 
and  heart  from  those  experiences  which  ever  demand  manly 
strength  and  principle.  As  a  result  of  their  costly  system, 
there  were  few  more  pitiable  objects  in  the  city  than  Vinton 
Arnold  as  he  stole  under  the  cover  of  night  to  visit  the  girl 
who  was  hoping — though  more  faintly  after  every  day  of  wait 
ing — that  she  might  find  in  him  sustaining  strength  and  love 
in  her  misfortunes. 

But  when  she  saw  his  white,  haggard  face  and  nervous, 
timid  manner,  she  was  almost  shocked,  and  exclaimed,  with 
impulsive  sympathy,  "  Mr.  Arnold,  you  have  been  ill  I 
have  done  you  wrong." 

He  did  not  quite  understand  her,  and  was  indiscreet 
enough  to  repeat,  "  You  have  done  me  wrong,  Miss 
Millie?" 

"  Pardon  me.     Perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  we  are  in 


"PITILESS  WAVES."  37 

deep  trouble.  My  father's  firm  has  failed,  and  we  shall  have 
to  give  up  our  home.  Indeed,  I  hardly  know  what  we  shall 
do.  When  in  trouble,  one's  thoughts  naturally  turn  to  one's 
friends.  I  thought  perhaps  you  would  come  to  see  me/7 
and  two  tears  that  she  could  not  repress  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  that  I  were  a  man  !"  groaned  Arnold,  mentally, 
and  never  had  human  cruelty  inflicted  a  keener  pang  than 
did  Mildred's  sorrowful  face  and  the  gentle  reproach  implied 
in  her  words. 

"I  —  I  have  been  ill,"  he  said  hesitatingly.  "Miss 
Millie,"  he  added  impulsively,  "  you  can  never  know  how 
deeply  I  feel  for  you." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  questioningly  to  his  face,  and  its  expres 
sion  was  again  unmistakable.  For  a  moment  she  lost  con 
trol  of  her  overburdened  heart,  and  bowing  her  face  in  her 
hands  gave  way  to  the  strong  tide  of  her  feelings.  "Oh  !" 
she  sobbed,  ' '  I  have  been  so  anxious  and  fearful  about  the 
future.  People  have  come  here  out  of  curiosity,  and  others 
have  acted  as  if  they  did  not  care  what  became  of  us,  if  they 
only  obtained  the  money  we  owed  them.  I  did  not  think 
that  those  who  were  so  smiling  and  friendly  a  short  time 
since  could  be  so  harsh  and  indifferent.  A  thousand  times  I 
have  thought  of  that  poor  ship  that  I  saw  the  waves  beat  to 
pieces,  and  it  has  seemed  as  if  it  might  be  our  fate.  I  sup 
pose  I  am  morbid,  and  that  some  way  will  be  provided,  but 
some  way  is  not  a  way." 

Instead  of  coming  to  her  side  and  promising  all  that  his 
heart  prompted,  the  miserable  constraint  of  his  position  led 
him  to  turn  from  grief  that  he  was  no  longer  able  to  witness. 
He  went  to  the  window,  and,  bowing  his  head  against  the 
sash,  looked  out  into  the  darkness. 

She  regarded  him  with  wonder  as  she  slowly  wiped  her 
eyes. 

"  Mr.  Arnold,"  she  faltered,  "  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me 


3§  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

for  my  weakness,   and  also  for   inflicting  our  troubles  on 
you. ' ' 

He  turned  and  came  slowly  toward  her.  She  saw  that  he 
trembled  and  almost  tottered  as  he  walked,  and  that  his  face 
had  become  ashen.  The  hand  he  gave  her  seemed  like  ice 
to  her  warm,  throbbing  palm.  But  never  could  she  forget 
his  expression — the  blending  of  self-contempt,  pitiable  weak 
ness,  and  dejection. 

"  Miss  Mildred,"  he  said  slowly,  "  there  is  no  use  in  dis 
guises.  We  had  better  both  recognize  the  truth  at  once.  At 
least  it  will  be  better  for  you,  for  then  you  may  find  a  friend 
more  worthy  of  the  name.  Can  you  not  see  what  I  am — a 
broken  reed  ?  The  vine  could  better  sustain  a  falling  tree 
than  I  the  one  I  loved,  even  though,  like  the  vine,  my  heart 
clung  to  that  one  as  its  sole  support.  You  suffer  ;  I  am  in 
torment  You  are  sad  ;  I  despair.  You  associate  strength 
and  help  with  manhood,  and  you  are  right.  You  do  not 
know  that  the  weakest  thing  in  the  world  is  a  weak,  helpless 
man.  I  am  only  strong  to  surfer.  I  can  do  nothing  ;  I  am 
nothing.  It  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  explain  how 
helpless  and  dependent  I  am — you  could  not  understand  it 
My  whole  heart  went  out  to  you,  for  you  seemed  both  gentle 
and  strong.  The  hope  would  grow  in  my  soul  that  you 
might  be  merciful  to  me  when  you  came  to  know  me  as  I 
am.  Good-by,  Millie  Jocelyn.  You  will  find  a  friend  strong 
and  helpful  as  well  as  kind.  As  for  me,  my  best  hope  is  to 
die."  He  bowed  his  head  upon  the  hand  he  did  not  venture 
to  kiss,  and  then  almost  fled  from  the  house. 

Mildred  was  too  much  overcome  by  surprise  and  feeling  to 
make  any  attempt  to  detain  him.  He  had  virtually  ac 
knowledged  his  love  for  her,  but  never  in  her  wildest  fancy 
had  she  imagined  so  dreary  and  sad  a  revelation. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn,  perplexed  by  Mr.  Arnold's  abrupt  depart 
ure,  came  in  hastily,  and  Mildred  told  her,  with  many  tears, 


"  PITILESS  WAVES."  39 

all  that  had  been  said.  Even  her  mother's  gentle  nature 
could  not  prevent  harsh  condemnation  of  the  young  man. 

"  So  h^.  could  do  nothing  better  than  get  up  this  little 
melodrama,  and  then  hasten  back  to  his  elegant  home,"  she 
said,  with  a  darkening  frown. 

Mildred  shook  her  head  and  said,  musingly,  "  I  under 
stand  him  better  than  you  do,  mamma,  and  I  pity  him  from 
the  depths  of  my  heart. ' ' 

"  I  think  it's  all  plain  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  in  a 
tone  that  was  hard  and  unnatural  in  her.  "  His  rich  parents 
tell  him  that  he  must  not  think  of  marrying  a  poor  girl,  and 
he  is  the  most  dutiful  of  sons. ' ' 

:<  You  did  not  hear  his  words,  mamma — you  did  not  see 
him.  Oh,  if  he  should  die  !  He  looked  like  death  itself," 
and  she  gave  way  to  such  an  agony  of  grief  that  her  mother 
was  alarmed  on  her  behalf,  and  wept,  entreated,  and  soothed 
by  turns  until  at  last  the  poor  child  crept  away  with  throb 
bing  temples  to  a  long  night  of  pain  and  sleeplessness.  The 
wound  was  one  that  she  must  hide  in  her  own  heart ;  hef 
pallor  and  languor  for  several  days  proved  how  deep  it  had 
been. 

But  the  truth  that  he  loved  her — the  belief  that  he  could 
never  give  to  another  what  he  had  given  to  her — had  a  secret 
and  sustaining  power.  Hope  is  a  hardy  plant  in  the  hearts 
of  the  young.  Though  the  future  was  dark,  it  still  had  its 
possibilities  of  good.  Womanlike,  she  thought  more  of  his 
trouble  than  of  her  own,  and  that  which  most  depressed  her 
was  the  fear  that  his  health  might  give  way  utterly.  "  I  can 
bear  anything  better  than  his  death,"  she  said  to  herself  a 
thousand  times. 

She  made  no  tragic  promises  of  constancy,  nor  did  she  in 
dulge  in  very  much  sentimental  dreaming.  She  simply  rec 
ognized  the  truth  that  she  loved  him — that  her  whole  woman's 
heart  yearned  in  tenderness  over  him  as  one  that  was  crippled 


40  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

and  helpless.  She  saw  that  he  was  unable  to  stand  alone 
and  act  for  himself,  and  with  a  sensitive  pride  all  her  own 
she  shrank  from  even  the  thought  of  forcing  herself  on  the 
proud,  rich  family  that  had  forbidden  the  alliance.  More 
over,  she  was  a  good-hearted,  Christian  girl,  and  perceived 
clearly  that  it  was  no  time  for  her  to  mope  or  droop.  Even 
on  the  miserable  day  which  followed  the  interview  that  so 
sorely  wounded  her,  she  made  pathetic  attempts  to  be  cheer 
ful  and  helpful,  and  as  time  passed  she  rallied  slowly  into 
strength  and  patience. 

The  father's  apparent  efforts  to  keep  up  under  his  misfor 
tune  were  also  a  great  incentive  to  earnest  effort  on  her  part. 
More  than  once  she  said  in  substance  to  her  mother,  "  Papa 
is  so  often  hopeful,  serene,  and  even  cheerful,  that  we  ought 
to  try  and  show  a  like  spirit  Even  when  despondency  does 
master  him,  and  he  becomes  sad  and  irritable,  he  makes  so 
brave  an  effort  that  he  soon  overcomes  his  wretched  mood 
and  quietly  looks  on  the  brighter  side.  We  ought  to  follow 
his  example."  It  would  have  been  infinitely  better  had  he 
followed  theirs,  and  found  in  prayer,  faith,  and  manly  courage 
the  serenity  and  fortitude  that  were  but  the  brief,  deceptive, 
and  dangerous  effects  of  a  fatal  poison. 

It  was  decided  that  the  family  should  spend  the  summer  at 
some  quiet  farm-house  where  the  board  would  be  very  in 
expensive,  and  that  Mr.  Jocelyn,  in  the  mean  time,  should  re 
main  in  the  city  in  order  to  avail  himself  of  any  opening  that 
he  might  discover. 

After  a  day  or  two  of  search  in  the  country,  he  found  a 
place  that  he  thought  would  answer,  and  the  family  prepared 
as  quickly  as  possible  for  what  seemed  to  them  like  a  journey 
to  Siberia. 

Mildred's  farewell  to  her  own  private  apartment  was  full  of 
touching  pathos.  This  room  was  the  outward  expression  not 
merely  of  a  refined  taste,  but  of  some  of  the  deepest  feelings 


"PITILESS  WAVES."  41 

and  characteristics  of  her  nature.  In  its  furniture  and  adorn 
ment  it  was  as  dainty  as  her  own  delicate  beauty.  She  had 
been  allowed  to  fit  it  up  as  she  wished,  and  had  lavished 
upon  it  the  greater  part  of  her  spending  money.  She  had 
also  bestowed  upon  it  much  thought,  and  the  skilful  work 
of  her  own  hands  had  eked  out  to  a  marvellous  extent  the 
limited  sums  that  her  father  had  been  able  to  give  her.  The 
result  was  a  prettiness  and  light,  airy  grace  which  did  not 
suggest  the  resting-place  of  an  ordinary  flesh-and-blood  girl, 
but  of  one  in  whom  the  spiritual  and  the  love  of  the  beauti 
ful  were  the  ruling  forces  of  life. 

It  is  surprising  how  character  impresses  itself  on  one's  sur 
roundings.  Mrs.  Arnold's  elegant  home  was  a  correct  ex 
pression  of  herself.  Stately,  formal,  slightly  rigid,  decidedly 
cold,  it  suggested  to  the  visitor  that  he  would  receive  the 
courtesy  to  which  his  social  position  entitled  him,  and  noth 
ing  more.  It  was  the  result  of  an  exact  and  logical  mind, 
and  could  no  more  unbend  into  a  little  comfortable  disorder 
than  the  lady  herself.  She  bestowed  upon  its  costly  appoint 
ments  the  scrupulous  care  which  she  gave  to  her  children, 
and  her  manner  was  much  the  same  in  each  instance.  She 
was  justly  called  a  strong  character,  but  she  made  herself  felt 
after  the  fashion  of  an  artist  with  his  hammer  and  chisel. 
Carved  work  is  cold  and  rigid  at  best. 

Mildred  had  not  as  yet  impressed  people  as  a  strong  char 
acter.  On  the  contrary,  she  had  seemed  peculiarly  gentle 
and  yielding.  Vinton  Arnold,  however,  in  his  deep  need 
had  instinctively  half  guessed  the  truth,  for  her  influence 
was  like  that  of  a  warm  day  in  spring,  undemonstrative,  not 
self-asserting,  but  most  powerful.  The  tongue-tied  could 
speak  in  her  presence  ;  the  diffident  found  in  her  a  kindly 
sympathy  which  gave  confidence  ;  men  were  peculiarly  drawn 
toward  her  because  she  was  so  essentially  womanly  without 
being  silly.  Although  as  sprightly  and  fond  of  fun  as  most 


42  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

young  girls  of  her  age,  they  recognized  that  she  was  perfectly 
truthful  and  loyal  to  all  that  men — even  bad  men — most 
honor  in  a  woman.  They  always  had  a  good  time  in  her 
society,  and  yet  felt  the  better  and  purer  for  it.  Life  blos 
somed  and  grew  bright  about  her  from  some  innate  influence 
that  she  exerted  unconsciously.  After  all  there  was  no  mys 
tery  about  it.  She  had  her  faults  like  others,  but  at  heart 
she  was  genuinely  good  and  unselfish.  The  gentle  mother 
had  taught  her  woman's  best  graces  of  speech  and  manner  ; 
nature  had  endowed  her  with  beauty,  and  to  that  the  world 
always  renders  homage. 

There  are  thousands  of  very  pretty  girls  who  have  no  love 
for  beauty  save  their  own,  which  they  do  their  best  to  spoil 
by  self-homage.  To  Mildred,  on  the  contrary,  the  beautiful 
was  as  essential  as  her  daily  food,  and  she  excelled  in  all  the 
dainty  handicrafts  by  which  women  can  make  a  home  attract 
ive.  Therefore  her  own  little  sanctum  had  developed  like 
an  exquisite  flower,  and  had  become,  as  we  have  said,  an 
expression  of  herself.  An  auctioneer,  in  dismantling  her 
apartment,  would  not  have  found  much  more  to  sell  than  if 
he  had  pulled  a  rose  to  pieces,  but  left  intact  it  was  as  full  of 
beauty  and  fragrance  as  the  flower  itself.  And  yet  her  own 
hands  must  destroy  it,  and  in  a  brief  time  she  must  exchange 
its  airy  loveliness  for  a  bare  room  in  a  farm-house.  After  that 
the  future  was  as  vague  as  it  was  clouded.  The  pretty  trifles 
were  taken  down  and  packed  away,  with  tears,  as  if  she  were 
laying  them  in  graves. 


THE  RUDIMENTS  OF  A  MAN.  43 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE   RUDIMENTS   OF  A   MAN. 

"  TV  y/T  OTHER,  I  hain't  no  unison  with  it  at  all,"  said 
J.VJL  Farmer  Atwood,  leaning  on  the  breakfast  table 
and  holding  aloft  a  knife  and  fork — formidable  implements 
in  his  hands,  but  now  unemployed  through  perturbation  ol 
mind.  "  I  hain't  no  unison  with  it — this  havio'  fine  city 
folks  right  in  the  family.  'Twill  be  pretty  nigh  a&  bad  as  visit 
ing  one's  rich  relations.  I  had  a  week  of  that  once,  but, 
thank,  the  Lord,  I  hain't  been  so  afflicted  since.  I've  seen 
'em  up  at  the  hotel  and  riding  by  too  often  not  to  knov* 
'em.  They  are  half  conceit  and  half  fine  feathers,  and  that 
doesn't  leave  many  qualities  as  are  suited  to  a  farm-house. 
Roger  and  me  will  have  to  be — what  was  it  that  lecturin' 
professor  called  it — '  deodorized  '  every  mornin'  after  feedin' 
and  cleanin'  the  critters.  We'll  have  to  put  on  our  go-to' 
meetin's,  instead  of  sittin'  down  in  our  shirt-sleeves  comfort 
able  like.  I  hain't  no  unison  with  it,  and  it's  been  a-grow- 
ing  on  me  ever  since  that  city  chap  persuaded  you  into  being 
cook  and  chambermaid  for  his  family. ' '  And  Farmer  At 
wood' s  knife  and  fork  came  down  into  the  dish  of  ham  with 
an  onslaught  that  would  have  appalled  a  Jew. 

"The  governor  is  right,  mother,"  said  the  young  man 
referred  to  as  Roger.  "  We  shall  all  be  in  strait-jackets  for 
the  summer." 

The  speaker  could  not  have  been  much  more  than  twenty 
years  old,  although  in  form  he  appeared  a  full-grown  man. 


44  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

As  he  stood  wiping  his  hands  on  a  towel  that  hung  in  a 
corner  of  the  large  kitchen,  which,  except  on  state  occasions, 
also  served  as  dining  and  sitting  room,  it  might  be  noted  that 
he  was  above  medium  height,  broad-shouldered,  and  strongly 
built.  When  he  crossed  the  room  his  coarse  working  dress 
could  not  disguise  the  fact  that  he  had  a  fine  figure  and  an 
easy  bearing  of  the  rustic,  rough-and-ready  style.  He  had 
been  out  in  the  tall,  dew-drenched  grass,  and  therefore  had 
tucked  the  lower  part  of  his  trousers  into  his  boot  tops,  and 
like  his  father  dispensed  with  his  coat  in  the  warm  June 
morning.  As  he  drew  a  chair  noisily  across  the  floor  and 
sat  down  at  the  table,  it  was  evident  that  he  had  a  good 
though  undeveloped  face.  His  upper  lip  was  deeply  shadowed 
by  a  coming  event,  to  which  he  looked  forward  with  no  little 
pride,  and  his  well-tanned  cheeks  could  not  hide  a  faint  glow 
of  youthful  color.  One  felt  at  a  glance  that  his  varying  ex 
pressions  could  scarcely  fail  to  reveal  all  that  the  young  man 
was  now  or  could  ever  become,  for  his  face  suggested  a  nature 
peculiarly  frank  and  rather  matter-of-fact,  or  at  least  un- 
awakened.  The  traits  of  careless  good-nature  and  self-confi 
dence  were  now  most  apparent.  He  had  always  been  re 
garded  as  a  clever  boy  at  home,  and  his  rustic  gallantry  was 
well  received  by  the  farmers'  daughters  in  the  neighborhood. 
What  better  proofs  that  he  was  about  right  could  a  young  fel 
low  ask  ?  He  was  on  such  good  terms  with  himself  and  the 
world,  that  even  the  event  which  his  father  so  deprecated  did 
not  much  disturb  his  easy-going  assurance.  He  doubted,  in 
his  thoughts,  whether  the  city  girls  would  "turn  up  their 
noses' '  at  him,  and  if  they  did,  they  might,  for  all  that  he 
cared,  for  there  were  plenty  of  rural  beauties  with  whom  he 
could  console  himself.  But,  like  his  father,  he  felt  that  the 
careless  undress  and  freedom  of  their  farm  life  would  be  crit 
icised  by  the  new-comers.  He  proposed,  however,  to  make 
as  little  change  as  possible  in  his  habits  and  dress,  and  to 


THE  RUDIMENTS  OF  A  MAN.  45 

teach  the  Jocelyns  that  country  people  had  ' '  as  good  a  right 
to  their  ways  as  city  people  to  theirs. ' '  Therefore  the  threat 
ened  invasion  did  not  in  the  least  prevent  him  from  making 
havoc  in  the  substantial  breakfast  that  Mrs.  Atwood  and 
her  daughter  Susan  put  on  the  table  in  a  haphazard  man 
ner,  taking  it  from  the  adjacent  stove  as  fast  as  it  was 
ready.  A  stolid-looking  hired  man  sat  opposite  to  Roger, 
and  shovelled  in  his  food  with  his  knife,  with  a  monotonous 
assiduity  that  suggested  a  laborer  rilling  a  coal-bin.  He 
seemed  oblivious  to  everything  save  the  breakfast,  and  with 
the  exception  of  heaping  his  plate  from  time  to  time  he  was 
ignored  by  the  family. 

The  men-folk  were  quite  well  along  with  their  meal  before 
Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan,  flushed  with  their  labors  about  the 
stove,  were  ready  to  sit  down.  They  were  accustomed  to 
hear  the  farmer  grumble,  and,  having  carried  their  point,  were 
in  no  haste  to  reply  or  to  fight  over  a  battle  that  had  been 
won  already.  Roger  led  to  a  slight  resumption  of  hostilities, 
however,  by  a  disposition — well-nigh  universal  in  brothers — 
to  tease. 

' '  Sue, ' '  he  said,  ' '  will  soon  be  wanting  to  get  some  feath 
ers  like  those  of  the  fine  birds  that  will  light  in  our  door-yard 
this  evening." 

"  That's  it,"  snarled  the  farmer  ;  "  what  little  you  make 
will  soon  be  on  your  backs  or  streamin'  away  in  ribbons." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Atwood  a  little  sharply,  "  it's  quite 
proper  that  we  should  have  something  on  our  backs,  and  if 
we  earn  the  money  to  put  it  there  ourselves,  I  don't  see  why 
you  should  complain  ;  as  for  ribbons,  Sue  has  as  good  right 
to  'em  as  Roger  to  a  span-new  buggy  that  ain' t  good  for  any 
thing  but  taking  girls  out  in." 

"What  made  you  have  the  seat  so  narrow,  Roger?" 
asked  Sue  ;  "  you  couldn't  squeeze  three  people  in  to  save 
your  life." 


46  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"I'm  content  with  one  girl  at  a  time,"  replied  Roger, 
with  a  complacent  shrug. 

"  And  the  same  girl  only  one  time,  too,  from  what  I  hear. 
You've  taken  out  all  there  are  in  Forestville,  haven't  you  ?" 

"  Haven't  got  quite  around  yet.  And  then  some  prudent 
mothers  do  think  the  seat  a  trifle  narrow,  and  the  ones  I'  d 
like  to  take  out  most  can't  go.  But  there's  plenty  that 
can." 

"  And  one  is  as  good  as  another,"  added  his  sister, 
maliciously,  "  if  she  will  only  talk  nonsense,  and  let  you  hold 
her  from  falling  out  when  you  whisk  over  the  thank-e- 
ma'  ams. ' ' 

"  I  didn't  have  to  go  from  home  to  learn  that  most  girls 
talk  nonsense, ' '  laughed  Roger.  ' '  By  the  way,  how  did 
you  learn  about  the  thank-e-ma'ams  ?  I  didn't  teach  you." 

"  No,  indeed  !  Sisters  may  fall  out  for  all  that  brothers 
care." 

"  That  depends  on  whose  sisters  they  are,"  said  Roger, 
rising.  "  I  now  perceive  that  mine  has  been  well  taken 
care  of." 

' '  You  think  other  young  men  have  your  pert  ways, ' '  re 
torted  Sue,  reddening.  "  My  friends  have  manners." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  They  let  you  fall  out,  and  then  politely 
pick  you  up. ' ' 

"  Come,  you  are  both  in  danger  of  falling  out  now,"  said 
the  mother  reprovingly. 

Roger  went  off  whistling  to  his  work,  and  the  hired  man 
lumbered  after  him. 

' '  Father, ' '  said  Mrs.  Atwood,  ' '  who'  11  go  down  to  the 
river  for  the  trunks  ?' ' 

"  Well,  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to,"  grumbled  Mr.  Atwood. 
"  Roger  don' t  want  to,  and  Jotham  can  do  more  work  in 
the  cornfield  than  me." 

"I'm  glad  you're  so  sensible.     Riding  down  to  the  river 


THE  RUDIMENTS  OF  A  MAN.  47 

and  back  will  be  a  good  bit  easier  than  hoeing  corn  all  day. 
The  stage  will  be  along  about  five,  I  guess,  and  I'  11  get  sup 
per  for  'em  in  the  sittin'-room,  so  you  can  eat  in  your  shirt 
sleeves,  if  that'll  quiet  your  mind." 

With  the  aspect  of  a  November  day  Mr.  Atwood  got  out 
the  great  farm -wagon  and  jogged  down  to  the  landing  on  the 
Hudson,  which  was  so  distant  as  to  insure  his  absence  for 
several  hours. 

It  was  a  busy  day  for  Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan.  Fresh 
bread  and  cake  were  to  be  baked,  and  the  rooms  ' '  tidied  up' ' 
once  more.  A  pitcher  that  had  lost  its  handle  was  filled 
with  old-fashioned  roses  that  persisted  in  blooming  in  a  grass- 
choked  flower-bed.  This  was  placed  in  the  room  designed 
for  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  the  children,  while  the  one  flower  vase, 
left  unbroken  from  the  days  of  Roger's  boyish  carelessness, 
adorned  the  smaller  apartment  that  Mildred  and  Belle  were 
to  occupy,  and  this  was  about  the  only  element  of  elegance 
or  beauty  that  Susan  was  able  to  impart  to  the  bare  little 
room.  Even  to  the  country  girl,  to  whom  the  term  "  deco 
rative  art ' '  was  but  a  vague  phrase,  the  place  seemed  meagre 
and  hard  in  its  outlines,  and  she  instinctively  felt  that  it 
would  appear  far  more  so  to  its  occupants. 

"  But  it's  the  best  we  can  afford,"  she  sighed  ;  "  and  at 
the  prices  they'  11  pay  us  they  shouldn'  t  complain. ' ' 

Still  the  day  was  full  of  pleasurable  excitement  and  antici 
pation  to  the  young  girl.  She  was  aware  that  her  mother's 
tasks  and  her  own  would  be  greatly  increased,  but  on  the 
other  hand  the  monotony  of  the  farm-house  life  would  be 
broken,  and  in  the  more  distant  future  she  saw  a  vista  of  new 
gowns,  a  jaunty  winter  hat  with  a  feather,  and  other  like  con 
ditions  of  unalloyed  happiness.  Susan  had  dwelt  thus  far  in 
one  of  life's  secluded  valleys,  and  if  she  lost  much  because 
her  horizon  was  narrow  she  was  shielded  from  far  more. 
Her  fresh,  full  face  had  a  certain  pleasant,  wholesome  aspect, 


4^  WITHOUT  A   HOME.. 

like  the  fields  about  her  home  in  June,  as  she  bustled  about, 
preparing  for  the   ' '  city  folks' '  whom  her  father  so  dreaded. 

Roger' s  buggy  was  not  yet  paid  for.  It  was  the  one  great 
extravagance  that  Mr.  Atwood  had  permitted  for  many  a 
year.  As  usual,  his  wife  had  led  him  into  it,  he  growling  and 
protesting,  but  unable  to  resist  her  peculiar  persistency. 
Roger  was  approaching  man's  estate,  and  something  must  be 
done  to  signalize  so  momentous  an  event.  A  light  buggy 
was  the  goal  of  ambition  to  the  young  men  in  the  vicinity, 
and  Roger  felt  that  he  could  never  be  a  man  without  one. 
He  also  recognized  it  as  the  best  means  of  securing  a  wife  to 
his  mind,  for  courting  on  a  moonlit,  shadowy  road  was  far 
more  satisfactory  than  in  the  bosom  of  the  young  woman's 
family.  Not  that  he  was  bent  on  matrimony,  but  rather  on 
several  years  of  agreeable  preparation  for  it,  proposing  to 
make  tentative  acquaintances,  both  numerous  and  miscella 
neous. 

In  his  impatience  to  secure  this  four-wheeled  compendium 
of  happiness  he  had  mortgaged  his  future,  and  had  promised 
his  father  to  plant  and  cultivate  larger  areas.  The  shrewd 
farmer  therefore  had  no  prospect  of  being  out  of  pocket,  for 
the  young  man  was  keeping  his  word.  The  acres  of  the 
cornfield  were  nearly  double  those  of  the  previous  year,  and 
on  them  Roger  spent  the  long  hot  day  in  vigorous  labor  in 
preference  to  the  easy  task  of  going  to  the  river  for  the  lug 
gage.  Dusty  and  weary,  but  in  excellent  spirits  over  the 
large  space  that  he  and  the  hired  man  had  "  hilled  up,"  he 
went  whistling  home  through  the  long  shadows  of  the  June 
evening.  The  farm  wagon  stood  in  the  door-yard  piled  with 
trunks.  The  front  entrance  of  the  house — rarely  used  by 
the  family — was  open,  and  as  he  came  up  the  lane  a  young 
girl  emerged  from  it,  and  leaned  for  a  few  moments  against 
the  outer  pillar  of  the  little  porch,  unconscious  of  the  picture 
she  made.  A  climbing  rose  was  in  bloom  just  over  her 


THE  RUDIMENTS  OF  A  MAN.  49 

head,  and  her  cheeks,  flushed  with  heat  and  fatigue,  vied 
with  them  in  color.  She  had  exchanged  her  travelling-dress 
for  one  of  light  muslin,  and  entwined  in  her  hair  a  few  buds 
from  the  bush  that  covered  the  porch.  If  Roger  was  not 
gifted  with  a  vivid  imagination  he  nevertheless  saw  things  very 
accurately,  and  before  he  reached  the  head  of  the  lane  ad 
mitted  to  himself  that  the  old  ' '  front  steps' '  had  never  been 
so  graced  before.  He  had  seen  many  a  rustic  beauty  stand 
ing  there  when  his  sister  had  company,  but  the  city  girl  im 
pressed  him  with  a  difference  which  he  then  could  not  un 
derstand.  He  was  inclined  to  resent  this  undefined  superi 
ority,  and  he  muttered,  ' '  Father' s  right.  They  are  birds 
of  too  fine  a  feather  for  our  nest. ' ' 

He  had  to  pass  near  her  in  order  to  reach  the  kitchen 
door,  or  else  make  a  detour  which  his  pride  would  not  per 
mit.  Indeed,  the  youth  plodded  leisurely  along  with  his 
hoe  on  his  shoulder,  and  scrupled  not  to  scrutinize  the  vision 
on  the  porch  with  the  most  matter-of-fact  minuteness. 

"  What  makes  her  so  '  down  in  the  mouth  '  ?"  he  queried. 
"She  doesn't  fancy  us  barbarians,  I  suppose,  and  Forest- 
ville  to  her  is  a  howling  wilderness.  Like  enough  she'll 
take  me  for  an  Indian." 

Mildred's  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  great  shaggy  mountain  in 
the  west,  that  was  all  the  more  dark  and  forbidding  in  its  own 
deep  shadow.  She  did  not  see  it,  however,  for  her  mind  was 
dwelling  on  gloomier  shadows  than  the  mountain  cast. 

As  he  passed  he  caught  her  attention,  and  stepping  toward 
him  a  little  impatiently,  she  said, 

' '  I  suppose  you  belong  to  the  premises  ?' ' 

He  made  an  awkward  attempt  at  a  bow,  and  said  stiffly, 
"I'm  one  of  the  Atwood  chattels." 

The  answer  was  not  such  as  she  expected,  and  she  gave  him 
a  scrutinizing  glance.  ' '  Surely,  if  I  have  ever  seen  a  laborer, 
he's  one,"  she  thought,  as  with  woman's  quickness  she  in- 


$o  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 

ventoried  his  coarse,  weather-stained  straw  hat,  blue  cotton 
shirt  crossed  by  suspenders  mended  with  strings,  shapeless 
trousers,  once  black,  but  now  of  the  color  of  the  dusty  corn 
field,  and  shoes  such  as  she  had  never  seen  on  the  avenue. 
Even  if  Roger's  face  had  not  been  discolored  by  perspiration 
and  browned  by  exposure,  its  contrast  with  the  visage  that 
memory  kept  before  her  but  too  constantly  would  not  have 
been  pleasing.  Nothing  in  his  appearance  deterred  her  from 
saying  briefly,  "  I  wish  you  would  bring  those  trunks  to 
our  rooms.  We  have  already  waited  for  them  some  little 
time,  and  Mr.  Atwood  said  that  his  man  would  attend  to 
them  when  he  came  home  from  his  work. ' ' 

"  That's  all  right,  but  I'm  not  his  man,"  and  with  another 
stiff  bow  he  passed  on. 

"  Roger,"  called  Mrs.  Atwood  from  the  kitchen  door, 
"  where's  Jotham  ?" 

"  Bringing  home  the  cows." 

"  The  ladies  want  their  trunks,"  continued  his  mother,  in 
a  sharp,  worried  tone.  ' '  I  wish  you  men-folks  would  see 
to  'em  right  away.  Why  couldn't  you  quit  work  a  little 
earlier  to-night?" 

Roger  made  no  reply,  but  proceeded  deliberately  to  help 
himself  to  a  wash-basin  and  water. 

"  Look  here,  Roger,"  said  his  mother,  in  a  tone  she  sel 
dom  used,  ' '  if  those  trunks  are  not  where  they  belong  in 
ten  minutes,  Susan  and  I'll  take  'em  up  ourselves." 

"That  would  be  a  pretty  story  to  go  out,"  added  his 
sister.  "  Little  use  your  buggy  would  be  to  you  then,  for 
no  nice  girl  would  ride  with  you." 

"  Come,  come,  what's  the  use  of  such  a  bother  !"  said  the 
young  man  irritably.  "  Mother  knows  that  I'd  carry  the 
trunks  up  on  Bald-Top  before  I'd  let  her  touch  them. 
That's  the  way  it  will  always  be  with  these  city  people,  I  sup 
pose.  Everybody  must  jump  and  run  the  moment  they 


THE  RUDIMENTS  OF  A  MAAr.  51 

speak.  Father's  right,  and  we'll  have  to  give  up  our  old 
free-and-easy  life  and  become  porters  and  waiting-maids. " 

"  I've  heard  enough  of  that  talk,"  said  Mrs.  Atwood  em 
phatically.  "  Your  father's  been  like  a  drizzling  north-easter 
all  day.  Now  I  give  you  men-folks  fair  warning.  If 
you  want  any  supper  you  must  wake  up  and  give  me  some 
thing  better  than  grumbling.  I'  m  too  hot  and  tired  now  to 
argue  over  something  that's  been  settled  once  for  all." 

The  "warning"  had  the  desired  effect,  for  Mrs.  Atwood 
was  the  recognized  head  of  the  commissary  department,  and, 
as  such,  could  touch  the  secret  springs  of  motives  that  are 
rarely  resisted. 

The  open  kitchen  windows  were  so  near  that  Mildred 
could  not  help  overhearing  this  family  jar,  and  it  added 
greatly  to  her  depression.  She  felt  that  they  had  not  only 
lost  their  own  home,  but  were  also  banishing  the  home  feel 
ing  from  another  family.  She  did  but  scant  justice  to  Mrs. 
Atwood' s  abundant  supper,  and  went  to  her  room  at  last  with 
that  most  disagreeable  of  all  impressions — the  sense  of  being 
an  intruder. 

The  tired  children  were  soon  at  rest,  for  their  time  of  sleep 
less  trouble  was  far  distant.  Belle's  pretty  head  drooped  also 
with  the  roses  over  the  porch  as  the  late  twilight  deepened. 
To  her  and  the  little  people  the  day  had  been  rich  in  novelty, 
and  the  country  was  a  wonderland  of  many  and  varied  de 
lights.  In  the  eyes  of  children  the  Garden  of  Eden  survives 
from  age  to  age.  Alas  !  the  tendency  to  leave  it  survives 
also,  and  to  those  who  remain,  regions  of  beauty  and  mystery 
too  often  become  angular  farms  and  acres. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  still  more  clearly  illustrated  the 
truth  that  the  same  world  wears  a  different  aspect  as  the 
conditions  of  life  vary.  They  were  going  out  into  the  wilder 
ness.  The  river  was  a  shining  pathway,  whose  beauty  was  a 
mockery,  for  it  led  away  from  all  that  they  loved  best.  The 


52  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

farm-house  was  a  place  of  exile,  and  its  occupants  a  strange, 
uncouth  people  with  whom  they  felt  that  they  would  have 
nothing  in  common.  Mrs.  Jocelyn  merely  looked  forward 
to  weeks  of  weary  waiting  until  she  could  again  join  her 
husband,  to  whom  in  his  despondency  her  heart  clung  with 
a  remorseful  tenderness.  She  now  almost  wished  that  they 
had  lived  on  bread  and  water,  and  so  had  provided  against 
this  evil  day  of  long  separation  and  dreary  uncertainty. 
Now  that  she  could  no  longer  rest  in  her  old  belief  that  there 
would  be  ' '  some  way' '  of  tiding  over  every  financial  crisis, 
she  became  a  prey  to  forebodings  equally  vague  that  there 
might  be  no  way.  That  her  husband  could  spend  day  after 
day  seeking  employment,  offering,  too,  to  take  positions  far 
inferior  to  the  one  he  had  lost,  was  a  truth  that  at  first  be 
wildered  and  then  disheartened  her  beyond  measure.  She 
felt  that  they  must,  indeed,  have  fallen  on  evil  times  when 
his  services  went  a-begging. 

To  Mildred  the  present  was  dark,  and  the  future  most 
unpromising  ;  but  deep  in  her  heart  nestled  the  sustaining 
thought  that  she  was  not  unloved,  not  forgotten.  The 
will  of  others,  not  his  own,  kept  her  lover  from  her  side. 
His  weaknesses  were  of  a  nature  that  awakened  her  pity 
rather  than  contempt.  If  he  had  been  a  Hercules  physically 
and  a  Bacon  intellectually,  but  conceited,  domineering,  un 
truthful,  and  of  the  male  flirt  genus — from  such  weaknesses 
she  would  have  shrunk  with  intense  repugnance.  Her  friends 
thought  her  peculiarly  gentle  in  disposition.  They  did  not 
know — and  she  herself  might  rarely  recognize  the  truth — that 
she  was  also  very  strong  ;  her  strength  on  its  human  side  con 
sisted  in  a  simple,  unswerving  fidelity  to  her  womanly  nature 
and  sense  of  right ;  on  the  Divine  side,  God's  word  was  to 
her  a  verity.  She  daily  said  "  Our  Father"  as  a  little  child. 
Has  the  world  yet  discovered  a  purer  or  loftier  philosophy  ? 


ROGER  DISCOVERS  A  NEW  TYPE.  53 


CHAPTER   VI. 

ROGER  DISCOVERS  A  NEW  TYPE. 

YOUNG  Atwood  rose  with  a  very  definite  purpose  on 
the  following  morning.  For  his  mother's  sake  he 
would  be  civil  to  their  boarders,  but  nothing  more.  He 
would  learn  just  what  they  had  a  right  to  expect  in  view  of 
their  business  relations,  and  having  periormed  all  that  was 
"  nominated  in  the  bond,"  would  treat  them  with  such  an 
off-hand  independence  that  they  would  soon  become  aware 
that  he,  Roger  Atwood,  was  an  entity  that  could  exist  with 
out  their  admiring  approval.  He  meant  that  they  should 
learn  that  the  country  was  quite  as  large  as  the  city,  and  that 
the  rural  peculiarities  of  Forestville  were  as  legitimate  as 
those  which  he  associated  with  them,  and  especially  with  the 
young  lady  who  had  mistaken  him  for  the  hired  man.  There 
fore  after  his  morning  work  in  the  barn-yard  he  sta'.ked  to 
the  house  with  the  same  manner  and  toilet  as  on  the  previous 
day. 

But  there  were  no  haughty  citizens  to  be  toned  down. 
They  were  all  sleeping  late  from  the  fatigues  of  their  journey, 
and  Mrs.  Atwood  said  she  would  give  the  "  men-folks  their 
breakfast  at  the  usual  hour,  because  a  hungry  man  and 
a  cross  bear  were  nigh  of  kin. ' ' 

The  meal  at  first  was  a  comparatively  silent  one,  but  Roger 
noted  with  a  contemptuous  glance  that  his  sister's  hair  was 
arranged  more  neatly  than  he  had  seen  it  since  the  previous 
Sunday,  and  that  her  calico  dress,  collar,  and  cuffs  were 
scrupulously  clean. 


54  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  Expecting  company?"  he  asked  maliciously. 

She  understood  him  and  flushed  resentfully.  ' '  If  you  wish 
to  go  around  looking  like  a  scarecrow,  that's  no  reason  why  I 
should, ' '  she  said.  ' '  The  corn  is  too  large  for  the  crows  to 
pull  now,  so  if  I  were  you  I  would  touch  myself  up  a  little. 
I  don't  wonder  that  Miss  Jocelyn  mistook  you  for  Jotham." 

"  It's  well,"  retorted  Roger,  with  some  irritation,  "that 
your  Miss  Jocelyn  has  no  grown  brothers  here,  or  you  would 
come  down  to  breakfast  in  kid  gloves.  I  suppose,  however, 
that  they  have  insisted  on  a  tidy  and  respectful  waitress. 
Will  you  please  inform  me,  mother,  what  my  regulation  cos 
tume  must  be  when  my  services  are  required  ?  Jotham  and 
I  should  have  a  suit  of  livery,  with  two  more  brass  buttons  on 
my  coat  to  show  that  I  belong  to  the  family. ' ' 

' '  I  think  that  a  little  more  of  the  manner  and  appearance 
of  a  gentleman  would  show  your  relationship  better  than  any 
amount  of  brass, ' '  remarked  his  mother  quietly. 

Roger  was  almost  through  his  breakfast,  and  so,  at  no  great 
loss,  could  assume  the  injured  part.  Therefore  with  a  dignity 
that  was  somewhat  in  marked  contrast  with  his  rather  un 
kempt  appearance  he  rose  and  stalked  off  to  the  cornfield 
again. 

"  Umph,"  remarked  Mr.  Atwood  sententiously,  as  he  rose 
and  followed  his  son.  This  apparently  vague  utterance  had 
for  his  wife  a  definite  and  extended  meaning.  She  looked 
annoyed  and  flurried,  and  was  in  no  mood  for  the  labors  of 
preparing  a  second  breakfast. 

"  The  men-folks  had  better  not  roil  me  up  too  much,"  she 
said  to  her  daughter.  "  If  your  father  had  said  No  !  out 
and  out,  I  wouldn't  have  brought  •  strangers  into  his  home. 
But  he  kinder  wanted  me  to  have  their  money  without  the 
bother  of  having  them  around.  Now  one  thing  is  settled — 
he  must  either  help  me  make  it  pleasant  for  these  people,  or 
else  tell  them  to  leave  this  very  day." 


ROGER  DISCOVERS  A  NEW  TYPE.  55 

"  And  how  about  Roger?"  asked  Susan,  still  under  the 
influence  of  pique. 

"  Oh,  Roger  is  young  and  foolish.  He's  a-growing yet, " 
and  the  mother's  severe  aspect  relaxed.  He  was  her  only 
boy. 

Mr.  Atwood,  brought  face  to  face  with  the  alternative  pre 
sented  by  his  practical  wife,  succumbed  with  tolerable  grace. 
In  truth,  having  had  his  grumble  out,  he  was  not  so  very 
averse  to  the  arrangement.  He  was  much  like  old  Gruff, 
their  watch-dog,  that  was  a  redoubtable  growler,  but  had 
never  been  known  to  bite  any  one.  He  therefore  installed 
himself  as  his  wife's  out-of-door  ally  and  assistant  commis 
sary,  proposing  also  to  take  the  boarders  out  to  drive  if  they 
would  pay  enough  to  make  it  worth  the  while.  As  for 
Roger,  he  resolved  to  remain  a  farmer  and  revolve  in  his  old 
orbit. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  were  listless  and  depressed,  and 
time  hung  heavily  on  their  hands.  They  were  in  that  con 
dition  of  waiting  and  uncertainty  which  renders  cheerful  or 
systematic  occupation  well-nigh  impossible.  They  daily 
hoped  that  a  letter  would  come  assuring  them  that  Mr.  Joce 
lyn  had  secured  a  position  that  would  change  all  their  future 
for  the  better,  but  the  letters  received  recorded  futile  efforts 
only,  and  often  despondency  ;  but  occasionally  there  would 
come  a  letter  full  of  vague,  sanguine  hopes  that  first  pro 
duced  elation  and  then  perplexity  that  nothing  came  of  them. 
His  wife  found  his  dejection  contagious.  If  she  had  been 
with  him  she  would  have  made  strenuous  efforts  to  cheer  and 
inspirit,  but  without  an  unselfish  woman's  strongest  motive 
for  action  she  brooded  and  drooped.  Belle's  irrepressible 
vivacity  and  the  children's  wild  delight  over  the  wonders  of 
the  fields  and  farm-yard  jarred  upon  her  sore  heart  painfully. 
She  patiently  tried  to  take  care  of  them,  but  in  thought  and 
feeling  she  could  net  enter  into  their  life  as  had  been  her 


5  6  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

custom.  Belle  was  too  young  and  giddy  for  responsibility, 
and  Mildred  had  many  a  weary  chase  after  the  little  explorers. 
In  spite  of  his  clearly  defined  policy  of  indifference,  Roger 
found  himself  watching  her  on  such  occasions  with  a  growing 
interest.  It  was  evident  to  him  that  she  did  not  in  the  slight 
est  degree  resent  his  daily  declaration  of  independence  ;  in 
deed,  he  saw  that  she  scarcely  gave  him  any  thoughts  what 
ever — that  he  was  to  her  no  more  than  heavy-footed  Jotham. 

"  She  does  not  even  consider  me  worth  snubbing,"  he 
thought,  with  much  dissatisfaction,  about  a  week  subsequent 
to  their  arrival. 

In  vain,  after  the  labors  of  the  day,  he  dressed  in  his  best 
suit  and  sported  a  flaming  necktie  ;  in  vain  he  dashed  away 
in  his  buggy,  and,  a  little  later,  dashed  by  again  with  a  rural 
belle  at  his  side.  He  found  himself  unable  to  impress  the 
city  girl  as  he  desired,  or  to  awaken  in  her  a  sense  of  his 
importance.  And  yet  he  already  began  to  feel,  in  a  vague 
way,  that  she  was  not  so  distant  to  him,  as  distant/r0/#  him. 

Belle  soon  formed  his  acquaintance,  asking  innumerable 
questions  and  not  a  few  favors,  and  she  found  him  more 
good-natured  than  she  had  been  led  to  expect.  At  last,  to 
her  great  delight,  he  took  her  with  him  in  his  wagon  to  the 
post-office.  The  lively  girl  interested  and  amused  him,  but 
he  felt  himself  immeasurably  older  than  she.  With  a  tend 
ency  common  to  very  young  men,  he  was  more  interested  in 
the  elder  sister,  who  in  character  and  the  maturity  that  comes 
from  experience  was  certainly  far  beyond  him.  Belle  he  un 
derstood,  but  Mildred  was  a  mystery,  and  she  had  also  the 
advantage  of  being  a  very  beautiful  one. 

As  time  passed  and  no  definite  assurances  came  from 
her  father,  the  young  girl  was  conscious  of  a  growing  dis 
satisfaction  with  the  idle,  weary  waiting  to  which  she  and 
her  mother  were  condemned.  She  felt  that  it  might  have  been 
better  for  them  all  to  have  remained  in  the  city,  in  spite  of 


ROGER  DISCOVERS  A  NEW  TYPE.  57 

the  summer  heat,  than  thus  to  be  separated.  She  believed 
that  she  might  have  found  something  to  do  which  would 
have  aided  in  their  support,  and  she  understood  more  clearly 
than  her  mother  that  their  slender  means  were  diminishing 
fast.  That  she  could  do  anything  at  a  country  farm  -house 
to  assist  her  father  seemed  very  doubtful,  but  she  felt  the 
necessity  of  employment  more  strongly  each  day,  not  only 
for  the  sake  of  the  money  it  might  bring,  but  also  as  an 
antidote  to  a  growing  tendency  to  brood  over  her  deep  disap 
pointment.  She  soon  began  to  recognize  that  such  self- 
indulgence  would  unfit  her  for  a  struggle  that  might  be  ex 
tended  and  severe,  and  was  not  long  in  coming  to  the  con 
clusion  that  she  must  make  the  best  of  her  life  as  it  was  and 
would  be.  Days  and  weeks  had  slipped  by  and  had  seen 
her  looking  regretfully  back  at  the  past,  which  was  receding 
like  the  shores  of  a  loved  country  to  an  exile.  Since  the 
prospect  of  returning  to  it  was  so  slight,  it  would  be  best  to 
turn  her  thoughts  and  such  faint  hope  as  she  could  cherish 
toward  the  vague  and  unpromising  future.  At  any  rate  she 
must  so  occupy  herself  as  to  have  no  time  for  morbid  self- 
communings. 

Her  first  resource  was  the  homely  life  and  interests  of 
those  with  whom  she  dwelt.  Thus  far  she  had  regarded 
them  as  uncongenial  strangers,  and  had  contented  herself 
with  mere  politeness  toward  them.  In  her  sad  preoccupation 
she  had  taken  little  note  of  their  characters  or  domestic  life, 
and  her  mother  had  kept  herself  even  more  secluded.  In 
deed  the  poor  lady  felt  that  it  was  hardly  right  to  smile  in 
view  of  her  husband's  absence  and  misfortune,  and  she  often 
chided  Belle  for  her  levity  ;  but  Belle's  life  was  like  an 
over-full  fountain  in  spring-time,  and  could  not  be  re 
pressed. 

In  her  deep  abstraction  Mildred  had  seen,  but  had  scarcely 
noted,  certain  changes  in  the  farm-house  that  would  have 


58  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

interested  and  pleased  her  had  her  mind  been  at  rest.  Al 
most  unconsciously  she  had  revealed  her  love  of  that  which 
is  pretty  and  inviting  ;  therefore  Susan,  not  content  with 
being  neat,  was  inclined  to  brighten  her  costume  by  an  oc 
casional  ribbon,  and  to  suggest  comparisons  between  her 
fresh  and  youthful  bloom  and  an  opening  flower  that  she 
would  fasten  in  her  hair  as  the  summer  day  declined.  So 
far  from  resenting  this  imitation  of  her  own  habits  and 
tastes,  Mildred  at  last  recognized  the  young  girl's  awakening 
perceptions  of  womanly  grace  with  much  satisfaction.  Even 
poor  Mrs.  Atwood  exhibited  a  tendency  to  emerge  from  her 
chronic  and  rather  forlorn  condition  of  household  drudge. 
For  years  she  had  known  and  thought  of  little  else  save 
sordid  work,  early  and  late.  The  income  from  the  small 
farm  permitted  no  extra  help  except  on  rare  occasions,  and 
then  was  obtained  under  protest  from  her  husband,  who 
parted  with  a  dollar  as  he  would  wim  a  refractory  tooth. 
His  strong  and  persistent  will  had  impressed  itself  on  his 
family,  and  their  home  life  had  been  meagre  and  uninviting  ; 
the  freedom  and  ease  that  he  and  Roger  were  so  loath  to  lose 
consisting  chiefly  in  careless  dress  and  a  disregard  of  the  little 
refinements  and  courtesies  of  life. 

It  was  with  some  self-reproach  that  Mildred  admitted  that 
for  nearly  a  month  she  had  practically  ignored  these  people, 
and  that  she  was  becoming  se]fish  in  her  trouble  ;  and  .yet, 
not  so  much  from  a  sense  of  duty,  as  from  a  kindling  zest 
in  life,  she  began  to  take  an  interest  in  them  and  their  ways. 
She  was  still  far  too  young  for  her  spirit  to  lose  its  spring, 
even  under  a  continuous  weight  of  misfortune.  Her  nature 
was  not  morbid,  but  sunny  and  wholesome,  and  when  with 
the  children  and  Belle  unexpected  smiles  would  brighten 
her  face  like  glints  of  sunshine  here  and  there  on  a  cloudy 
day.  Deep  as  had  been  her  wounds,  she  found  that  there 
were  moments  when  she  half  forgot  their  pain,  and  an  in- 


ROGER  DISCOVERS  A  NEW  TYPE.  59 

stinct  of  self-preservation  taught  her  that  it  would  be  best  to 
forget  them  as  far  as  possible. 

When  the  thought  of  trying  to  refine  the  somewhat  rude 
household  in  which  she  dwelt  occurred  to  her,  she  discovered 
that  the  work  was  already  well  begun,  for  the  chief  condition 
of  success  was  present — the  disposition  to  do  as  she  would 
like.  The  Atwoods  soon  surmised  that  the  family  was  in 
trouble  of  some  kind,  and  were  able  to  distinguish  between 
pride  of  caste  and  a  sorrowful  preoccupation.  It  was  scarcely 
in  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred's  nature  to  speak  otherwise 
than  gently  and  kindly,  and  so  without  trying  they  disarmed 
their  hosts  and  won  their  sympathy.  Notwithstanding  their 
dejection  and  lassitude,  they  maintained  the  habits  of  their 
lives,  and  unwittingly  gave  Mrs.  Atwood  and  her  daughter  a 
vague  impression  that  neatness,  attractiveness,  and  order  were 
as  essential  as  good  morals. 

At  first  Roger  had  dressed  more  roughly  than  ever,  in  order 
to  assert  his  right  to  his  old  ways,  but  as  Mildred  did  not 
protest  even  by  a  glance,  he  next  took  pains  to  show  her 
that  he  had  ' '  good  clothes "  if  he  chose  to  wear  them. 
This  fact  she  also  accepted  without  the  faintest  interest,  and 
so  at  last  he  was  rather  nonplussed.  He  was  not  accustomed 
to  being  politely  ignored,  and  since  he  felt  a  growing  interest 
in  this  new  type  of  girl,  he  had  an  increasing  desire  to 
make  her  aware  of  his  existence.  ' '  Hang  it  all, ' '  he  would 
mutter,  "  I'm  no  more  to  her  than  Jotham  and  the  other 
farm  animals.  What  can  a  fellow  do  to  make  her  look  at 
him  as  if  she  saw  him  ?  She's  very  kind  and  polite  and  all 
that ;  she'd  as  soon  hurt  the  brindle  cow  as  me,  but  this 
fact  is  not  very  flattering.  However,  I'll  find  you  out,  my 
lady,  and  you  too  shall  learn  that  the  one  whom  you  now 
regard  as  an  object  merely  has  a  will  and  a  way  of  his 
own. ' ' 

Therefore  it  may  be  guessed  that  in  Roger  Mildred  might 


60  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

discover  more  docility  and  plastic  readiness  than  she  desired. 
Only  old  Mr.  Atwood  and  Jotham  seemed  incorrigible  mate 
rial  ;  but  she  did  not  despair  even  of  them,  and  resolved  to 
set  about  reclaiming  this  family  from  barbarism  at  once. 


COMPARISONS.  6 1 


CHAPTER   VII. 

COMPARISONS. 

"  TV/T  RS<  ATWOOD'"  said  Mildred  one  Saturday  even- 

.IV  JL  ing,  "  I'll  go  with  you  to  church  to-morrow  if  you'll 
let  me.  Belle  has  been  once,  and  it  will  be  my  turn  to 
morrow.  ' ' 

"  Oh,  certainly,  miss  ;  you  will  go  with  Roger  in  the 
buggy,  I  s'pose,  like  Miss  Belle." 

"  If  you  please,  I'd  rather  go  with  you." 

"  Really,  miss,  the  roads  have  been  muddy  of  late,  and  the 
wagon  isn't  very  nice." 

"  I  would  rather  go  with  you,"  pleaded  Mildred,  with  an 
appeal  in  her  blue  eyes  that  few  resisted. 

"  Father,"  said  Mrs.  Atwood,  as  soon  as  her  husband 
came  in,  "  Miss  Jocelyn  wishes  to  go  with  us  to  meeting  to 
morrow.  Can't  you  or  Roger  tidy  up  the  wagon  a  bit? 
'Tain't  fit  for  her  to  ride  in." 

"  There  'tis  again — more  time  spent  in  fixing  up  and  fuss 
ing  than  in  looking  after  the  main  chance.  You  are  all 
gettin'  too  fine  for  plain  farmin'  people." 

"  I  don't  see  why  plain  farming  people  need  enjoy  mud 
more'  n  other  folks.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  ask  your 
wife  and  daughter  to  ride  in  such  a  wagon. ' ' 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  be  more  ashamed  to-morrow 
than  on  any  other  Sunday,  and  you  was  never  ashamed 
before.  Your  boarders  don't  seem  inclined  to  take  any 
rides  and  pay  lor  them,  so  I  don't  see  why  I  should  fix  up 


03  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

any  more'n  usual.  Anyhow,  it's  too  late  now  ;  Jotham'y 
gone  home,  I'm  too  tired,  and  Roger's  dressed  to  go  out. 
\Yhv  can't  she  go  with  Roger  ?" 

' '  She  says  she'  d  rather  go  with  us,  and  if  you  men-folks 
let  her  ride  in  that  wagon  I  hope  the  minister  will  give  you  a 
scorching  sermon" — and  she  turned  toward  her  son,  who, 
dressed  in  his  rural  finery,  was  finishing  an  early  supper. 
To  her  surprise  he,  from  whom  she  expected  no  aid,  gave 
her  a  significant  nod  and  put  his  finger  on  his  lips.  He  had 
already  decided  upon  one  bold  stratagem,  in  the  hope  of 
opening  Mildred's  eyes,  and  if  this  failed  his  mother's  words 
suggested  another  line  of  policy. 

' '  Sue, ' '  he  said,  with  affected  carelessness,  ' '  I  may  bring 
Amelia  Stone  to  spend  part  of  the  evening  with  you. 

' '  Amelia  Stone  isn'  t  my  style,  if  the  young  men  do  say 
she's  the  prettiest  girl  in  town." 

"  If  you  don't  treat  her  well  she'll  think  you're  jealous," 
said  Roger,  and  with  this  artful  stroke  he  departed  to  carry 
out  his  experiment.  "  I'll  teach  my  city  lady  that  I'm  not 
a  clodhopper  that  other  girls  won't  look  at,"  he  thought  as 
he  drove  away. 

Everything  went  according  to  his  mind,  for  Amelia  broke 
an  engagement  in  order  to  come  with  him,  and  was  very 
friendly.  The  young  fellow  thought  that  Mildred  must  see 
that  he  was  not  a  person  to  be  politely  ignored  when  so  hand 
some  a  girl  was  flattering  in  her  favors.  Susan  would  not  be 
thought  jealous  for  the  world,  and  so  was  rather  effusive  over 
Miss  Stone.  She  also  imbibed  the  idea  that  it  might  be  a 
good  chance  to  make  Mildred  aware  that  they  knew  some 
nice,  stylish  people  ;  therefore,  as  the  rural  beauty  mounted 
the  steps  of  the  porch  she  introduced  her  to  Mildred  and 
Belle.  Roger  meanwhile  stood  near,  and  critically  compared 
the  two  girls.  They  certainly  represented  two  very  different 
types,  and  he  might  have  brought  a  score  of  his  acquaintances 


COMPARISONS.  63 

that  would  have  been  more  to  Mildred' s  taste  than  the  florid 
beauty  whose  confidence  was  boldness,  and  who  had  inven 
toried  her  own  pronounced  charms  more  often  than  had  any 
of  her  admirers.  One  girl  was  a  lily,  with  a  character  like  a 
delicate,  elusive  fragrance  ;  the  other,  a  tulip,  very  striking, 
especially  at  a  distance.  The  one  no  more  asserted  herself 
than  did  the  summer  evening  ;  the  manner  of  the  other  the 
same  as  button-holed  all  present,  and  demanded  attention. 
Her  restless  black  eyes  openly  sought  admiration,  and  would 
speedily  sparkle  with  anger  and  malice  should  their  request 
be  unrewarded.  Roger  was  quick  enough  to  feel  Mildred's 
superiority,  although  he  could  scarcely  account  for  it,  and 
he  soon  experienced  so  strong  a  revulsion  of  feeling  toward 
his  unconscious  ally,  that  he  would  have  taken  her  home 
again  with  a  sense  of  relief. 

"  If  Miss  Jocelyn  thinks  that's  the  style  of  girl  that  takes 
with  me,  I  might  as  well  have  remained  a  scarecrow.  Amelia 
Stone  seems  loud  as  a  brass  band  beside  her, ' '  and  his  gal 
lantries  perceptibly  diminished. 

True  to  her  nature,  Amelia  assumed  toward  him  what  she 
imagined  were  very  pretty  airs  of  proprietorship.  Roger 
knew  well  that  her  manner  would  have  been  the  same  toward 
the  youth  with  whom,  from  a  sudden  caprice,  she  had  broken 
her  engagement  for  the  evening.  Her  habitual  coquetry 
nevertheless  unwittingly  carried  out  his  original  programme 
with  a  success  that  made  him  grind  his  teeth  with  rage,  for 
he  supposed  that  Mildred  would  gain  the  idea  that  they  were 
congenial  spirits  drawn  together  by  strong  affinities. 

And  she,  half  divining  his  vexation,  shrewdly  increased  it 
by  pretending  to  associate  him  with  the  transparent  coquette, 
while  at  the  same  time  manifesting  disapproval  of  her  by  a 
fine  reserve.  Amelia  felt  herself  scanned  quietly,  coldly,  and 
half  curiously,  as  if  she  belonged  to  some  strange  and  hitherto 
unknown  type,  and  her  vivacious  egotism  began  to  fail  her. 


64  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

She  was  much  relieved  therefore  when  Mildred  excused  her 
self  and  went  to  her  room,  for  careless,  light-hearted,  and 
somewhat  giddy  Belle  imposed  no  restraint.  Roger,  how 
ever,  did  not  recover  himself,  for  he  saw  that  he  had  made  a 
false  step  in  his  effort  to  win  recognition  from  Mildred,  and 
he  waited  impatiently  until  his  companion  should  suggest 
returning.  This  she  soon  did,  and  they  rode  toward  her 
home  with  a  mutual  sense  of  dissatisfaction.  At  last  Amelia 
broke  out,  "  I  think  she's  absurdly  proud  !" 

"  Who  ?"  Roger  asked  demurely. 

"  You  know  who  well  enough.  I  thank  my  stars  we  have 
no  city  folks  putting  on  airs  around  our  house.  I  suppose 
you  think  her  perfection.  You  looked  as  if  you  did. ' ' 

"I'm  not  acquainted  with  her,"  he  said  quietly. 

"  Not  acquainted  !  Darsn't  you  speak  to  her  high 
mightiness  then  ?" 

' '  Oh,  yes,  I  can  speak  to  her  when  there  is  occasion,  but 
that  does  not  make  one  acquainted.  I  don't  understand 
her. ' ' 

"I  do,  perfectly.  She  thinks  herself  a  wonderful  deal 
better  than  you  or  me. ' ' 

' '  Perhaps  she  is, ' '  he  admitted. 

"  Well  !  that's  a  nice  speech  to  make  to  me!  I  was  a  fool 
to  break  my  engagement  and  go  with  you." 

"  All  right,"  responded  Roger,  with  satirical  good-nature, 
as  he  assisted  her  to  alight ;  "  we'll  both  know  better  next 
time. 

She  would  not  speak  to  him  again,  but  he  escorted  her  to 
her  door,  and  bowed  in  parting  with  mocking  politeness.  In 
stead  of  inviting  him  in,  as  \vas  her  custom,  she  closed  the 
door  with  a  sharpness  that  spoke  volumes. 

"  I  don't  believe  Miss  Jocelyn  ever  banged  a  door  like 
that  in  her  life,"  he  muttered  with  a  smile  as  he  hastened 
homeward. 


COMPARISONS.  65 

Hearing  unusual  sciunds  in  the  farm-yard  before  retiring, 
Mildred  peeped  out  from  under  her  curtain.  The  moonlight 
revealed  that  Roger  was  washing  the  wagon  with  a  vigor  that 
made  her  laugh,  and  she  thought,  ' '  After  what  I  have  seen 
this  evening,  I  think  I  can  civilize  him." 


66  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

CHANGES. 

BENT  upon  carrying  out  her  project  of  introducing 
among  the  Atwoods  a  more  gracious  and  genial  fam 
ily  life,  and  lured  by  the  fresh  coolness  of  the  summer  morn 
ing,  Mildred  left  her  room  earlier  than  usual.  Mrs.  Atwood, 
whose  one  indulgence  was  a  longer  sleep  on  the  day  of  rest, 
came  down  not  very  long  after  and  began  bustling  about  the 
kitchen.  Hitherto  their  meals  had  been  served  to  the  Joce- 
]yns  in  the  sitting-room,  the  farmer  and  his  family  eating  as 
before  in  the  kitchen.  Mildred  felt  that  they  had  no  right 
to  impose  this  extra  labor  on  Mrs.  Atwood,  especially  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  she  also  thought  it  would  do  her  mother  good 
to  be  roused  from  the  listless  apathy  into  which  she  was  sink 
ing.  These  were  her  chief  motives,  but  she  knew  that  at  no 
other  place  could  people  be  taught  the  refinements  of  life 
more  effectually  than  at  the  table,  and  it  was  her  plan  to 
bring  about  the  changes  she  desired,  without  appearing  to  be 
the  conscious  cause. 

' '  Mrs.  Atwood, ' '  she  said,  ' '  why  can  we  not  all  take  our 
breakfast  together  in  the  sitting  -  room  this  morning  ?  I 
have  noticed  that  your  hired  man  is  absent  on  Sundays" — • 
her  zeal  for  reform  would  not  induce  her  to  sit  down  with 
Jotham — "  and  I  can  see  no  reason  why  you  should  have  the 
task  to-day  of  preparing  two  meals.  Of  course,  if  this  is  not 
agreeable  to  you  let  there  be  no  change,  but  do  not  put  your 
self  to  the  extra  trouble  on  our  account. ' ' 


CHANGES.  67 

"  Well,  now,  miss,  you  are  very  kind,  and  to  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  was  thinking  of  this  very  thing,  but  we  don' t  wish  to 
intrude." 

"  Intrude,  Mrs.  Atwood  !"  exclaimed  Mildred,  assuming 
surprise.  "  I  don't  understand  you,  and  shall  now  feel  hurt 
if  we  do  not  take  our  meals  together  to-day. ' ' 

"  It's  very  good  of  you  to  think  of  us,  and  Susan  and  me 
will  have  a  more  restful  day." 

Mildred  gave  her  one  of  her  rare  smiles,  which  Mrs.  Atwood 
said  ' '  lighted  up  the  old  kitchen  like  a  ray  of  sunshine, ' '  and 
then  went  to  prepare  her  mother  and  sister  for  the  change. 
Belle  was  pleased,  as  she  ever  was  with  novelty. 

"  Millie,"  she  cried,  "  you  shall  sit  next  to  that  great  an 
imal,  Jotham,  and  if  you  don' t  take  care  he'  11  eat  you  un 
awares.  ' ' 

"  Jotham  is  not  here  to-day,  and  I'll  have  him  fed  in  the 
kitchen  hereafter." 

' '  Have  you  become  mistress  of  the  farm-house  ?  Has 
Roger  made  proposals  ?  Won' t  it  be  fun  to  hear  Mr.  At 
wood  grumble  !  There  is  nothing  I  enjoy  more  than  to  hear 
him  grumble  and  old  Gruff  growl.  They  must  be  chips  ofl 
the  same  block." 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  shrank  from  seeing  and  speaking  to  any  one, 
but  was  much  too  unselfish  to  impose  extra  tasks  on  Mrs. 
Atwood. 

Susan  soon  came  down  to  assist  her  mother,  and  was  de 
lighted  at  the  prospect  of  taking  her  meals  in  the  sitting-room, 
feeling  that  it  was  a  decided  social  promotion.  Moreover, 
like  all  young  girls,  she  longed  for  companionship,  and  be 
lieved  that  Mildred  would  now  be  more  approachable. 

By  and  by  Roger  came  from  the  barn-yard  in  his  working- 
clothes,  and  seeing  no  preparations  for  breakfast  in  the  kitch 
en,  exclaimed, 

"  So  we  heathen  must  sit  down  to  the  second  table  to-day." 


68  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

1  Yes,  if  you  wish.  Susan  and  me  are  going  to  take  our 
breakfast  in  the  sitting-room  with  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  her 
family. ' ' 

"  Am  I  not  invited  ?"  he  asked  a  little  anxiously. 

' '  There' s  no  need  of  any  invitation.  You  have  as  much 
right  there  as  I  have,  only  I  would  not  come  in  looking  like 
that." 

"  They  won't  like  it — this  new  arrangement." 

1 '  It  seems  to  me  that  you  have  grown  very  considerate  of 
what  they  like,"  put  in  Susan. 

"  Miss  Jocelyn  proposed  it  herself,"  Mrs.  Atwood  said, 
"  and  if  you  and  father  would  fix  up  a  little  and  come  in 
quietly  and  naturally  it  would  save  a  deal  of  trouble.  If  I 
can't  get  a  little  rest  on  Sunday  I'll  wear  out." 

Roger  waited  to  hear  no  more,  and  went  hastily  to  his 
room. 

Mr.  Atwood  was  more  intractable.  He  distinguished  the 
Sabbath  from  the  rest  of  the  week,  by  making  the  most  of  his 
larger  leisure  to  grumble. 

"  I'm  in  no  state  to  sit  down  with  those  people,"  he 
growled,  after  the  change  and  the  reasons  for  it  had  been  ex 
plained  to  him. 

"  I'm  glad  you  feel  so,"  his  wife  replied  ;  "  but  your  old 
clothes  have  not  yet  grown  fast  to  you  ;  you  can  soon  fix 
yourself  up,  and  you  might  as  well  dress  before  breakfast  as 
after  it." 

He  was  perverse,  however,  and  would  make  no  greater 
concession  to  the  unwelcome  innovation  than  to  put  on  his 
coat.  Mildred  smiled  mentally  when  she  saw  him  lowering 
at  the  head  of  the  table,  but  an  icicle  could  no  more  continue 
freezing  in  the  sun  than  he  maintain  his  surly  mood  before 
her  genial,  quiet  greeting.  It  suggested  courtesy  so  irresist 
ibly,  and  yet  so  unobtrusively,  that  he  already  repented  his 
lack  of  it.  Still,  not  for  the  world  would  he  have  made  any 


CHANGES.  69 

one  aware  of  his  compunctions.  Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan 
had  their  doubts  about  Roger,  fearing  that  he  would  rebel 
absolutely  and  compel  a  return  to  their  former  habits.  They 
were  all  scarcely  seated,  however,  before  he  appeared,  a  little 
flushed  from  his  hasty  toilet  and  the  thought  of  meeting  one 
who  had  been  cold  and  disapproving  toward  the  belle  of 
Forestville,  but  Mildred  said  "  good-morning  "  so  affably 
and  naturally  that  he  was  made  quite  at  ease,  and  Mrs.  Joce- 
lyn,  who  had  seemed  unapproachable,  smiled  upon  him  so 
kindly  that  he  was  inclined  to  believe  her  almost  as  pretty  as 
her  daughter.  As  for  Belle  and  the  children,  he  already  felt 
well  acquainted  with  them.  Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan  looked 
at  each  other  significantly,  for  Roger  was  dressed  in  his  best 
and  disposed  to  do  his  best.  Mildred  saw  the  glance,  and  felt 
that  the  young  fellow  deserved  some  reward,  so  she  began 
talking  to  him  in  such  a  matter-of-course  way  that  before  he 
Was  aware  he  was  responding  with  a  freedom  that  surprised 
all  the  family,  and  none  more  than  himself.  Mildred  was 
compelled  to  admit  that  the  "  young  barbarian,"  as  she  had 
characterized  him  in  her  thoughts,  possessed,  in  the  item  of 
intelligence,  much  good  raw  material.  He  not  only  had 
ideas,  but  also  the  power  of  expressing  them,  with  freshness  and 
vivacity.  She  did  not  give  herself  sufficient  credit  for  the 
effects  that  pleased  her,  or  understand  that  it  was  her  good 
breeding  and  good  will  that  banished  his  tongue-tied  embar 
rassment.  The  most  powerful  influences  are  usually  the 
most  subtle,  and  Roger  found,  as  had  Vinton  Arnold  and 
others,  that  for  some  cause  Mildred  evoked  the  best  there  was 
in  him. 

Poor  Mrs.  Jocelyn  did  not  have  very  much  to  say.  Her 
depression  was  too  deep  to  be  thrown  off  appreciably,  but  she 
replied  to  Mrs.  Atwood' s  remarks  with  her  wonted  gentleness. 
Belle's  spirits  soon  passed  all  bounds,  and  one  of  her  wild 
sallies  provoked  a  grim  smile  from  even  Mr.  Atwood,  and 


70  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

she  exulted  over  the  fact  all  day.  In  brief,  the  ice  seemed 
quite  broken  between  the  family  and  the  "  boarders." 

The  old  farmer  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes  when  he 
went  out  to  harness  the  horses  to  me  three-seated  wagon,  for 
it  was  neat  and  clean,  with  buffalo  robes  spread  over  the 
seats.  "  Well,"  he  ejaculated,  "  what's  a-coming  over  this 
here  family,  anyway  ?  I'  m  about  all  that' s  left  of  the  old  rusty 
times,  and  rusty  enough  I  feel,  with  everybody  and  everything 
so  fixed  up.  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  stand  it  Sundays,  and  the 
day'  11  be  harder  to  git  through  than  ever.  To-morrow  I'  11 
be  back  in  the  kitchen  again,  and  can  eat  my  victuals  without 
Miss  Jocelyn  looking  on  and  saying  to  herself,  '  He  ain'  t 
nice  ;  he  don' t  look  pretty  ;  *  and  then  a-showin'  me  by  the 
most  delicate  little  ways  how  I  ought  to  perform.  She's  got 
Roger  under  her  thumb  or  he  wouldn't  have  cleaned  up  this 
wagon  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  for  all  I  know,  but  I'm 
too  old  and  set  to  be  made  over  by  a  girl." 

Thus  grumbling  and  mumbling  to  himself,  Mr.  Atwood 
prepared  to  take  his  family  to  the  white,  tree-shadowed 
meeting-house,  at  which  he  seldom  failed  to  appear,  for  the  not 
very  devotional  reason  that  it  helped  him  to  get  through  the 
day.  Like  the  crab-apple  tree  in  the  orchard,  he  was  a  child 
of  the  soil,  and  savored  too  much  of  his  source. 

Roger  was  of  finer  metal,  and  while  possessing  his  father') 
shrewdness,  hard  common-sense  and  disposition  to  hit  th&. 
world  between  the  eyes  if  it  displeased  him,  his  nature  was 
ready  at  slight  incentive,  to  throw  off  all  coarseness  and  vul 
garity.  The  greater  number  of  forceful  American  citizens  are 
recruited  from  the  ranks  of  just  such  young  men — strong, 
comparatively  poor,  somewhat  rude  in  mind  and  person  at 
the  start,  but  of  such  good  material  that  they  are  capable  of  a 
fine  finish. 

Roger  had  grown  naturally,  and  healthily,  thus  far.  He 
had  surpassed  the  average  bov  on  the  play-ground,  and  had 


CHANGES.  71 

fallen  slightly  below  him  in  the  school-house,  but  more  from 
indifference  and  self-assurance  than  lack  of  ability.  Even 
his  father' s  narrow  thrift  could  not  complain  of  his  work  when 
he  would  work,  but  while  a  little  fellow  he  was  inclined  to 
independence,  and  persisted  in  having  a  goodly  share  of  his 
time  for  the  boyish  sports  in  their  season,  and  for  all  the  books 
of  travel  and  adventure  he  could  lay  his  hands  upon.  In 
spite  of  scoldings  and  whippings  he  had  sturdily  held  his 
own,  and  at  last  his  father  had  discovered  that  Roger  could  be 
led  much  better  than  driven,  and  that  by  getting  him  inter 
ested,  and  by  making  little  agreements,  like  that  concerning 
the  buggy,  the  best  of  the  bargain  could  always  be  obtained, 
for  the  youth  would  then  work  with  a  will  and  carry  out  his 
verbal  contracts  in  a  large,  good-natured  way.  Therefore 
Mildred's  belief  that  he  was  good  raw  material  for  her  human 
izing  little  experiment  had  a  better  foundation  than  she  knew. 
Indeed,  without  in  the  least  intending  it,  she  might  awaken  a 
spirit  that  would  assert  itself  in  ways  as  yet  undreamed  of  by 
either  of  them.  The  causes  which  start  men  upon  their 
careers  are  often  seemingly  the  most  slight  and  casual.  Mil 
dred  meant  nothing  more  than  to  find  a  brief  and  kindly- 
natured  pastime  in  softening  the  hard  lives  and  in  rounding 
the  sharp  angles  of  the  Atwood  family,  and  Roger  merely 
came  in  for  his  share  of  her  attention.  Flesh  and  spirit,  how 
ever,  are  not  wood  and  stone,  and  she  might  learn  in  deep  sur 
prise  that  her  light  aesthetic  touches,  while  producing  pleasing 
changes  in  externals,  had  also  awakened  some  of  the  pro- 
foundest  motives  and  forces  that  give  shape  and  color  to  life. 
In  smiling  ignorance  of  such  possibilities,  she  said  to  him 
as  she  came  out  on  the  porch  dressed  for  church,  "  You  have 
given  your  mother  and  me  also  a  pleasant  surprise,  and  we 
shall  enjoy  our  ride  to  church  far  more,  not  only  because  the 
wagon  is  nice  and  clean,  but  also  because  of  your  thought' 
fulness  of  our  pleasure.  The  wagon  looked  so  inviting  from 


7 2  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

our  windows  that  I  have  induced  my  mother  to  go,  and  to 
take  the  children.  I  think  they  will  keep  still  We  will  sit 
near  the  door,  and  I  can  take  them  out  if  they  get  tired." 

Her  words  were  very  simple,  but  she  spoke  them  with  a 
quiet  grace  all  her  own,  while  pulling  her  glove  over  a  hand 
that  seemed  too  small  and  white  for  any  of  the  severer  tasks 
of  life.  As  she  stood  there  in  her  pretty  summer  costume,  a 
delicate  bloom  in  her  cheeks  relieving  the  transparent  fair 
ness  of  her  complexion,  she  seemed  to  him,  as  Amelia  Stone 
had  said,  perfect  indeed — and  the  young  girl  could  not  sup 
press  a  smile  at  the  almost  boyish  frankness  of  his  admiration. 

' '  You  gave  me  a  pleasant  surprise,  also, ' '  he  said,  flushing 
deeply. 

"  I  ?"  with  a  questioning  glance. 

'  Yes.  You  have  brought  about  a  pleasant  change,  and 
made  breakfast  something  more  than  eating.  You  have  made 
me  feel  that  I  might  be  less  nigh  of  kin  to  Jotham  than  I 
feared. ' ' 

"  I  shall  imitate  your  frankness,"  she  replied,  laughing  ; 
"  you  are  not  near  so  nigh  of  kin  to  him  as  I  feared." 

"  I  have  not  forgotten  that  you  thought  me  identical  with 
him,"  he  could  not  forbear  saying. 

"  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  your  feelings,"  she  answered, 
with  deepening  color. 

"  Oh,  you  were  not  to  blame  in  the  least,"  he  said  good- 
naturedly.  "  I  deserved  it" 

"  You  must  remember,  too,"  she  continued,  deprecatingly, 
' '  that  I  am  a  city  girl,  and  not  acquainted  with  country  ways, 
and  so  have  charity."  Then  she  added  earnestly,  "  We  do 
not  want  to  put  a  constraint  on  your  family  life,  or  make 
home  seem  less  homelike  to  you  all. ' ' 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  with  Belle  and  the  children  were  descending 
the  stairs.  "  I  misunderstood  you,  Miss  Jocelyn,"  said 
Roger,  with  a  penitent  look,  and  he  hastily  strode  away. 


CHANGES.  73 

"I've  disarmed  him,"  thought  Mildred,  with  a  half  smile. 
She  had,  a  little  too  completely. 

Belle  claimed  her  old  place  with  Roger,  and  their  light 
wagon  was  soon  lost  in  the  windings  of  the  road. 

"Millie,"  whispered  Belle,  as  the  former  joined  her  at 
church,  "  what  could  you  have  said  to  Roger  to  make  him 
effervesce  so  remarkably  ?  I  had  to  remind  him  that  it  was 
Sunday  half  a  dozen  times." 

"  What  a  great  boy  he  is  !"  answered  Mildred. 

"  The  idea  of  my  teaching  him  sobriety  seemed  to  amuse 
him  amazingly." 

"  And  no  wonder.     You  are  both  giddy  children." 

"  Until  to-day,  when  you  have  turned  his  head,  he  has 
been  very  aged  in  manner.  Please  let  him  alone  hereafter  ; 
he  is  my  property. ' ' 

' '  Keep  him  wholly, ' '  and  the  amused  look  did  not  pass 
from  Mildred's  face  until  service  began. 

Dinner  was  even  a  greater  success  than  breakfast  Mrs. 
Jocelyn  had  become  better  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Atwood 
during  the  drive,  and  they  were  beginning  to  exchange  house 
keeping  opinions  with  considerable  freedom,  each  feeling 
that  she  could  learn  from  the  other.  Fearing  justly  that  a 
long  period  of  poverty  might  be  before  them,  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
was  awakening  to  the  need  of  acquiring  some  of  Mrs.  At 
wood' s  power  of  making  a  little  go  a  great  way,  and  the 
thought  of  thus  becoming  able  to  do  something  to  assist  her 
absent  husband  gave  her  more  animation  than  she  had  yet 
shown  in  her  exile.  Mildred  ventured  to  fill  her  vase  with 
some  hardy  flowers  that  persisted  in  blooming  under  neglect, 
and  to  place  it  on  the  table,  and  she  was  greatly  amused  to 
see  its  effect  on  Roger  and  Mr.  Atwood.  The  latter  stared 
at  it  and  then  at  his  wife. 

' '  Will  any  one  take  some  of  the  flowers  ?' '  he  asked  at  last, 
in  ponderous  pleasantry. 


74  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  I  think  we  all  had  better  take  some,  father,"  said  Roger. 
"  I  would  not  have  believed  that  so  little  a  thing  could 
have  made  so  great  a  difference. ' ' 

"  Well,  what  is  the  difference.?" 

' '  I  don' t  know  as  I  can  express  it,  but  it  suggests  that  a 
great  deal  might  be  enjoyed  that  one  could  not  put  in  his 
mouth  or  his  pocket. ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Roger, ' '  cried  Belle,  ' '  you  are  coming  on  famously. 
I  didn't  know  that  you  were  inclined,  hitherto,  to  put 
everything  you  liked  in  your  mouth  or  pocket.  What  escapes 
some  people  may  have  had. 

"  I  never  said  I  liked  you,"  retorted  the  youth,  with  a 
touch  of  the  broad  repartee  with  which  he  was  accustomed  to 
hold  his  own  among  the  girls  in  the  country. 

' '  No,  but  if  I  saw  that  you  liked  some  one  else  I  might  be 
alarmed  " — and  she  looked  mischievously  toward  Mildred. 

For  reasons  inexplicable  to  himself,  he  fell  into  a  sudden 
confusion  at  this  sally. 

With  a  warning  glance  at  the  incorrigible  Belle,  whose  vital 
elements  were  frolic  and  nonsense,  Mildred  began  talking  to 
Mr.  Atwood  about  the  great  hotel  a  few  miles  distant. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  there  ?"  asked  Roger  after  a  little. 

"  No,"  she  said  ;  "I  have  not  the  slightest  wish  to  go 
there."  Indeed  there  was  nothing  that  she  shrank  from 
more  than  the  chance  of  meeting  those  who  had  known  her 
in  the  city. 

Later  in  the  day  Susan  said  to  her  mother,  with  much  satis 
faction,  "  She's  not  stuck  up  at  all,  and  we  might  have 
found  ft  out  before.  I  can't  go  back  to  the  kitchen  and  live 
in  our  old  haphazard  way.  I  can  see  now  that  it  wasn't  nice 
at  all." 

"We'll  see,"  said  the  politic  Mrs.  Atwood.  "We 
mustn't  drive  father  too  fast." 

Roger  felt  that  at  last  he  was  getting  acquainted,  and  he 


CHANGES.  75 

looked  forward  to  the  long  summer  evening  with  much  hope. 
But  nothing  happened  as  he  expected,  for  Mildred  was  silent 
and  preoccupied  at  supper,  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  appeared  to 
have  relapsed  into  her  old  depression. 

Instead  of  going  out  in  his  buggy  to  spend  the  evening 
with  one  of  his  many  favorites,  as  had  been  his  custom,  he 
took  a  book  and  sat  down  under  a  tree  near  the  porch,  so  that 
he  might  join  Mildred  if  she  gave  him  any  encouragement  to 
do  so.  Belle  found  him  taciturn  and  far  removed  from  his 
gay  mood  of  the  morning,  and  so  at  last  left  him  in  peace. 

Sue  was  entertaining  a  rural  admirer  in  the  parlor,  which 
was  rarely  used  except  on  such  momentous  occasions,  and  all 
was  propitious  for  a  quiet  talk  with  the  object  of  his  kindling 
interest  His  heart  beat  quickly  as  he  saw  her  appear  on  the 
porch  with  her  hat  and  shawl,  but  instead  of  noticing  him  she 
went  rapidly  by  with  bowed  head  and  climbed  an  eminence 
near  the  house,  from  which  there  was  an  extended  view  to 
the  southward.  He  felt,  as  well  as  saw,  that  she  wished  to 
be  alone,  that  he  was  not  in  her  thoughts,  that  she  was  still 
as  distant  from  him  as  he  had  ever  imagined  her  to  be.  The 
shadows  deepened,  the  evening  grew  dusky,  the  stars  came 
out,  and  yet  she  did  not  return.  For  a  long  time  he  could  see 
her  outline  as  she  sat  on  the  hill  top,  and  then  it  faded.  He 
knew  she  was  in  trouble,  and  found  a  vague  pleasure  in  watch 
ing  with  her,  in  remaining  within  call  should  she  be  fright 
ened,  knowing,  however,  that  there  was  little  danger  of  this  in 
quiet  Forestville.  Still,  the  illusion  that  he  was  in  some  sense 
her  protector  pleased  him  in  his  sentimental  mood,  and  in 
after  years  he  often  recalled  this  first  faint  foreshadowing  of 
his  lot. 

Could  he  have  seen  the  poor  girl,  when  at  last,  conscious 
of  solitude  and  darkness,  she  gave  way  to  the  passionate  grief 
that,  for  her  mother's  sake,  she  had  so  long  repressed,  he 
would  have  felt  that  she  was  distant  indeed — far  removed  by 


76  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

experiences  of  which  he  as  yet  knew  nothing.  She  had  been 
gazing  southward,  toward  the  city  in  which  her  father  was 
vainly  seeking  a  foothold  on  the  steep  incline  up  which  the 
unfortunate  must  struggle,  and  in  fancy  she  saw  him  lonely, 
dejected,  and  deprived  of  the  family  life  of  which  he  was  so 
fond.  Her  sympathy  for  him  was  as  deep  as  her  strong 
affection.  But  in  spite  of  her  will  her  thoughts  would  recur 
to  the  beautiful  dream  which  had  been  shattered  in  that  dis 
tant  city.  Not  a  word  had  she  heard  from  Arnold  since  leav 
ing  it,  and  her  heart  so  misgave  her  concerning  the  future 
that  she  threw  herself  on  the  sod,  sobbing  bitterly,  and  almost 
wishing  that  she  were  beneath  it  and  at  rest.  In  the  deep 
abstraction  of  her  grief  she  had  scarcely  noted  the  lapse  of 
time,  nor  where  she  was,  and  the  moon  had  risen  when  she 
again  glided  by  Roger,  her  step  and  bearing  suggesting  las 
situde  and  dejection. 

Soon  after  he  entered  the  sitting-room,  where  he  found  his 
mother  with  a  troubled  look  on  her  face.  "Roger,"  she 
said,  ' '  I  feel  sorry  for  these  people.  When  I  went  up-stairs  a 
while  ago  I  heard  Mrs.  Jocelyn  crying  in  her  room,  and  com 
ing  down  with  the  lamp  I  met  the  young  lady  on  the  stairs, 
and  her  eyes  were  very  red.  It's  certain  they  are  in  deep 
trouble.  What  can  it  be?  It's  queer  Mr.  Jocelyn  doesn't 
come  to  see  them.  I  hope  they  are  all  right." 

' '  Mother, ' '  he  burst  out  impetuously,  ' '  they  are  all  right 
— she  is,  anyway,"  and  he  went  abruptly  to  his  room. 

"  Well,"  remarked  the  bewildered  woman  sententiously, 
"  there  never  were  such  goings  on  in  the  old  house  before." 

An  event  momentous  to  her  had  indeed  taken  place — 
Roger's  boyish  days  were  over. 


NEITHER  BOY  NOR  MAN.  77 


CHAPTER   IX. 

NEITHER   BOY  NOR  MAN. 

two  following  weeks  passed  uneventfully  at  the 
JL  farm-house,  but  silent  forces  were  at  work  that  were 
as  quiet  and  effective  as  those  of  Nature,  who  makes  her  vital 
changes  without  ever  being  observed  in  the  act.  In  respect 
to  the  domestic  arrangements  Mrs.  Atwood  effected  a  sensible 
compromise.  She  gave  the  men-folk  an  early  breakfast  in 
the  kitchen,  so  that  they  might  go  to  their  work  as  usual,  and 
her  boarders  were  thus  not  compelled  to  rise  at  an  unaccus 
tomed  hour.  She  and  Susan  afterward  sat  down  with  them, 
and  Mr.  Atwood  and  Roger  joined  them  at  dinner  and  sup 
per.  On  the  Monday  following  the  scenes  described  in  the 
last  chapter,  Mildred  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  were  listless  and  un 
able  to  recover  even  the  semblance  of  cheerfulness,  for  a  let 
ter  from  Mr.  Jocelyn  informed  them  that  he  was  making 
very  little  headway,  and  that  some  agencies  which  he  accepted 
yielded  but  a  scanty  income.  Mildred  chafed  more  bitterly 
than  ever  over  her  position  of  idle  waiting,  and  even  grew 
irritable  under  it.  More  than  once  Roger  heard  her  speak 
to  Belle  and  the  children  with  a  sharpness  and  impatience 
which  proved  her  not  angelic.  This  did  not  greatly  disturb 
him,  for  he  neither  "  wanted  to  be  an  angel  "  nor  wished  to 
have  much  to  do  with  uncomfortable  perfection.  A  human, 
spirited  girl  was  quite  to  his  taste,  and  he  was  quick-witted 
enough  to  see  that  unrest  and  anxiety  were  the  causes  of  her 
temper.  Poor  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  too  gentle  for  irritation,  and 
only  grew  more  despondent  than  ever  at  hope  deferred. 


7«  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Millie,"  she  said,  "  I  have  dreadful  forebodings,  and 
can  never  forgive  myself  that  I  did  not  think  night  and  day 
how  to  save  instead  of  how  to  spend.  What  should  we  do  if 
we  had  no  money  at  all  ?" 

"  Belle  and  I  must  go  to  work,"  said  Mildred,  with  a 
resolute  face,  ' '  and  it' s  a  shame  we  are  not  at  work  now. ' ' 

"  What  can  you  do  when  your  father  can  do  so  little  ?" 

"  Other  poor  people  live  ;  so  can  we.  I  can't  stand  this 
wretched  waiting  and  separation  much  longer,"  and  she 
wrote  as  much  to  her  father.  In  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  re 
sponse  favorable  to  her  wishes  she  became  more  cheerful. 
Every  day  increased  her  resolution  to  put  an  end  to  their  sus 
pense,  and  to  accept  their  lot  with  such  fortitude  as  they 
could  command. 

One  morning  she  found  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Atwood  preparing 
to  go  to  the  nearest  market  town  with  butter,  eggs,  and  other 
farm  produce.  She  readily  obtained  permission  to  accom 
pany  them,  and  made  some  mysterious  purchases.  From 
this  time  onward  Roger  observed  that  she  was  much  in  her 
room,  and  that  she  went  out  more  for  exercise  than  from  the 
motive  of  getting  through  with  the  weary,  idle  hours.  For 
some  reason  she  also  gained  such  an  influence  over  thought 
less  Belle  that  the  latter  took  tolerably  good  care  of  little  Fred 
and  Minnie,  as  the  children  were  familiarly  called.  While 
she  maintained  toward  him  her  polite  and  friendly  manner, 
he  saw  that  he  was  forgotten,  and  that  it  had  not  entered  her 
mind  that  he  could  ever  do  anything  for  her  or  be  anything 
more  to  her  than  at  the  present  time.  But  every  hour  she 
gained  a  stronger  hold  upon  his  sympathy,  and  occasionally, 
when  she  thought  herself,  unobserved,  he  saw  a  troubled  and 
almost  fearful  look  come  into  her  eyes,  as  if  something  were 
present  to  her  imagination  that  inspired  the  strongest  dread. 
At  such  times  he  was  mastered  by  impulses  of  self-sacrifice 
that  would  have  seemed  very  absurd  if  put  into  plain  words. 


NEITHER  BOY  NOR  MAN.  79 

He  kept  his  thoughts,  however,  to  himself,  and  with  an  in 
stinctive  reticence  sought  to  disguise  even  from  his  mother 
the  feelings  that  were  so  new,  and  so  full  of  delicious  pain. 
That  he  was  becoming  quite  different  from  the  careless,  self- 
satisfied  young  fellow  that  he  had  been  hitherto  was  apparent 
to  all,  and  after  his  outburst  on  Sunday  evening  his  mother 
half  guessed  the  cause.  But  he  misled  her  to  some  extent, 
and  Susan  altogether,  by  saying,  "  I've  had  a  falling-out 
with  Amelia  Stone." 

"  Well,  she's  the  last  girl  in  the  world  that  I'd  mope  about 
if  I  were  a  man, ' '  was  his  sister' s  emphatic  reply. 

",  You' re  not  a  man  ;  besides  I'm  not  moping.  I'm  only 
cutting  my  wisdom  teeth.  I  want  to  do  something  in  the 
world,  and  I'm  thinking  about  it." 

"  He's  a -growing, "  said  his  mother  with  a  smile,  and  on 
this  theory  she  usually  explained  all  of  her  son's  vagaries. 

He  still  further  misled  his  unsophisticated  sister  by  making 
no  special  effort  to  seek  Mildred's  society.  After  one  or  two 
rather  futile  attempts  he  saw  that  he  would  alienate  the  sad- 
hearted  girl  by  obtrusive  advances,  and  he  contented  himself 
by  trying  to  understand  her,  in  the  hope  that  at  some  future 
time  he  might  learn  to  approach  her  more  acceptably.  The 
thought  that  she  would  soon  leave  the  farm-house  depressed 
him  greatly.  She  had  suggested  to  him  a  new  and  wholly 
different  life  from  that  which  he  had  led  hitherto,  and  he  felt 
within  himself  no  power  or  inclination  to  go  on  with  his  old 
ways.  These  thoughts  he  also  brooded  over  in  silence,  and 
let  himself  drift  in  a  current  which  seemed  irresistible. 

During  this  period  he  was  under  the  influence  of  neither 
apathy  nor  dejection.  On  the  contrary,  his  mind  was  surging 
with  half -formed  plans,  crude  purposes,  and  ambitious 
dreams.  His  horizon  lifted  from  the  farm  and  Forestville 
until  there  seemed  space  for  a  notable  career.  His  soul 
kindled  at  the  thought  of  winning  a  position  that  would  raise 


So  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

him  to  Mildred's  side.  So  far  from  fearing  to  burn  his 
ships,  and  strike  out  unsupported,  the  impulse  grew  strong  to 
make  the  attempt  at  any  cost.  He  was  sure  that  his  father 
would  not  listen  to  the  project,  and  that  he  would  be  wholly 
unaided,  but  not  many  days  passed  before  the  thought  of  such 
obstacles  ceased  to  influence  him.  "  I'll  take  my  way 
through  the  world,  and  cut  my  own  swath, ' '  he  muttered  a 
hundred  times  as  he  swung  the  scythe  under  the  July  sun. 

Moreover,  he  had  a  growing  belief  in  his  power  to  climb 
the  heights  of  success.  His  favorite  books  of  travel  and  ad 
venture  that  he  had  devoured  in  boyhood  made  almost  any 
thing  seem  possible,  and  the  various  biographies  that  the,  vil 
lage  library  furnished  revealed  grand  careers  in  the  face  of 
enormous  obstacles.  His  mind  was  awaking  like  a  young 
giant  eager  for  achievement.  Even  after  the  toil  of  long,  hot 
days  he  took  up  his  old  school-books  in  the  solitude  of  his 
room,  and  found  that  he  could  review  them  with  the  ease  with 
which  he  would  read  a  story.  "  I've  got  some  brains  as  well 
as  muscle,"  he  would  mutter,  exultantly.  "  The  time  shall 
come  when  Mildred  Jocelyn  won't  mistake  me  for  Jotham. " 

Poor  Mr.  Atwood  would  have  been  in  consternation  had 
he  known  what  was  passing  in  his  son's  mind  ;  and  Mildred 
even  less  pleased,  for  after  all  it  was  she  who  had  inspired  the 
thoughts  which  were  transforming  him  from  a  simple  country 
youth  into  an  ambitious,  venturesome  man. 

He  knew  of  but  one  way  to  please  her,  but  he  made  the 
most  of  that,  and  worked  quietly  but  assiduously  whenever  he 
could  without  exciting  his  father's  opposition.  After  the 
day's  tasks  were  over  the  time  was  his  own.  He  began  by 
cutting  all  the  weeds  and  grass  in  the  door-yard  and  around 
the  house.  Palings  that  had  disappeared  from  the  fence  were 
replaced,  and  all  were  whitewashed. 

Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan  were  greatly  pleased  at  the  changes, 
but  thought  it  politic  not  to  say  much  about  them  ;  one 


NEITHER  BOY  NOR  MAN.  8l 

evening,  however,  his  father  began  to  banter  him,  remarking 
that  Roger  must  be  intending  to  "  bring  home  a  wife  some 
fine  morning."  The  young  fellow  reddened  resentfully,  and 
brusquely  retorted  that  they  "  had  lived  in  their  old  slovenly 
way  long  enough.  People  might  well  think  they  were  going 
to  the  bad." 

This  practical  view  somewhat  reconciled  his  father  to  the 
new  ideas,  and  suggested  that  Roger  was  not  so  daft  as  he 
feared.  A  little  time  after  he  was  led  to  believe  his  son  to  be 
shrewder  than  himself.  Needing  some  money,  he  took  a  note 
to  the  bank  with  much  misgiving,  but  was  agreeably  surprised 
when  one  of  the  officers  said  affably,  ' '  I  think  we  can  accom 
modate  you,  Mr.  Atwood.  I  was  by  your  place  the  other 
day,  and  it  is  so  improved  that  I  scarcely  knew  it  Thrift  and 
credit  go  together. ' ' 

But  Mildred  doubted  whether  thrift  and  policy  were  the 
only  motives  which  had  led  to  Roger' s  unwonted  action,  and 
believed  rather  that  he  had  awakened  to  a  perception  of  the 
value  and  attractiveness  of  those  things  which  hitherto  he  had 
not  appreciated.  This,  in  a  sense,  was  already  true,  but  had 
she  known  to  what  extent  she  was  in  his  thoughts  she  would 
not  have  smiled  so  complacently  when,  on  the  Saturday 
morning  after  the  completion  of  his  other  labors,  she  noted 
that  the  weed-choked  flower-borders  along  the  walk  had  been 
cleaned  and  neatly  rounded  up,  and  the  walk  itself  put  in 
prefect  order.  "  The  flower-beds  remind  me  of  himself," 
she  thought,  as  from  time  to  time  she  glanced  at  them 
through  her  open  window.  ' '  They  contain  a  good  deal  of 
vacant  space,  and  suggest  what  might  be  there  rather  than 
what  is.  Would  to  heaven,  though,  that  Mr.  Arnold  had 
more  of  his  muscle  and  decision.  If  Vinton  were  only 
different,  how  different  all  the  future  might  be  ?  But  I  fear, 
I  fear.  We  have  not  enough  money  to  last  all  summer  if  we 
remain  here,  and  father  writes  so  discouragingly.  Thank 


82  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

God,  I'm  no  longer  idle,  whether  anything  comes  of  my 
work  or  not,"  and  the  delicate  piece  of  fancy  work  grew 
rapidly  in  her  deft  hands. 

Toward  evening  she  started  out  for  a  walk,  but  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise  as  she  saw  the  flower-borders  were 
bright  with  verbenas,  heliotrope,  geraniums,  and  other  bed 
ding  plants.  Roger's  buggy  stood  near,  containing  two  large 
empty  boxes,  and  he  was  just  raking  the  beds  smooth  once 
more  in  order  to  finish  his  task. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Atwood  !"  she  cried,  "  it  has  long  seemed  to 
me  that  a  good  fairy  was  at  work  around  the  house,  but  this 
is  a  master-stroke." 

' '  If  you  are  pleased  I  am  well  repaid, ' '  he  replied,  the 
color  deepening  on  his  sunburnt  cheeks. 

"  If  I  am  pleased  ?"  she  repeated  in  surprise,  and  with  a 
faint  answering  color.  "  Why,  all  will  be  pleased,  especially 
your  mother  and  Susan. ' ' 

"  No  doubt,  but  I  thought  these  would  look  more  like 
what  you  have  been  accustomed  to." 

"  Really,  Mr.  Atwood,  I  hope  you  have  not  put  yourself 
to  all  this  trouble  on  my  account." 

' '  I  have  not  put  myself  to  any  trouble.  But  you  are  in 
trouble,  Miss  Jocelyn,  and  perhaps  these  flowers  may  enliven 
you  a  little." 

' '  I  did  not  expect  such  kindness,  such  thoughtf ulness.  1 
do  not  see  that  I  am  entitled  to  so  much  consideration,"  she 
said  hesitatingly,  at  the  same  time  fixing  on  him  a  penetrat 
ing  glance. 

Although  he  was  much  embarrassed,  his  clear  black  eyes 
met  hers  without  wavering,  and  he  asked,  after  a  moment 
"  Could  you  not  accept  it  if  it  were  given  freely  ?" 

' '  I  scarcely  understand  you, ' '  she  replied  in  some  perplexity. 

"  Nor  do  I  understand  you,  Miss  Jocelyn.  I  wish  I  did, 
for  then  I  might  do  more  for  you. ' ' 


NEITHER  BOY  NOR  MAN.  83 

"  No,  Mr.  Atwood,"  she  answered  gravely,  "  you  do  not 
understand  me.  Experience  has  made  me  immeasurably 
older  than  you  are." 

"  Very  possibly,"  he  admitted,  with  a  short,  embarrassed 
laugh.  ' '  My  former  self-assurance  and  complacency  are  all 
gone." 

"  Self-reliance  and  self-restraint  are  better  than  self-assur 
ance,"  she  remarked  with  a  smile. 

"  Miss  Jocelyn,"  he  began,  with  something  like  impetu 
osity,  "  I  would  give  all  the  world  if  I  could  become  your 
friend.  You  could  do  so  much  for  me. ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Atwood, ' '  said  Mildred,  with  a  laugh  that  was  mixed 
with  annoyance,  "  you  are  imposed  upon  by  your  fancy,  and 
are  imagining  absurd  things,  I  fear.  But  you  are  good- 
hearted,  and  I  shall  be  a  little  frank  with  you.  We  are  in 
trouble.  Business  reverses  have  overtaken  my  father,  and  we 
are  poor,  and  may  be  much  poorer.  I  may  be  a  working- 
woman  the  rest  of  my  days  ;  so,  for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not 
make  a  heroine  out  of  me.  That  would  be  too  cruel  a  satire 
on  my  prosaic  lot. ' ' 

' '  You  do  not  understand  me  at  all,  and  perhaps  I  scarcely 
understand  myself.  If  you  think  my  head  is  filled  with  sen 
timental  nonsense,  time  will  prove  you  mistaken.  I  have  a 
will  of  my  own,  I  can  assure  you,  and  a  way  of  seeing  what 
is  to  be  seen.  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  since  I've  known 
you.  A  new  and  larger  world  has  been  revealed  to  me,  and 
I  mean  to  do  something  in  it  worthy  of  a  man.  I  can  nevei 
go  on  with  my  old  life,  and  I  will  not,"  he  continued,  almost 
passionately.  "  I  was  an  animal.  I  was  a  conceited  fool. 
I'm  very  crude  and  unformed  now,  and  may  seem  to  you 
very  ridiculous  ;  but  crudity  is  not  absurdity,  undeveloped 
strength  is  not  weakness.  An  awakening  mind  may  be  very 
awkward,  but  give  me  time  and  you  will  not  be  ashamed  of 
my  friendship." 


84  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

He  had  ceased  leaning  against  a  tree  that  grew  near  the 
roadway,  and  at  some  distance  from  the  house.  In  his  strong 
feeling  he  forgot  his  embarrassment,  and  assumed  an  attitude 
so  full  of  unconscious  power  that  he  inspired  a  dawning  of 
respect ;  for,  while  he  seemed  a  little  beside  himself,  there 
was  a  method  in  his  madness  which  suggested  that  she,  as 
well  as  the  young  man,  might  eventually  discover  that  he  was 
not  of  common  clay  and  predestined  to  be  commonplace. 
But  she  said,  in  all  sincerity,  "  Mr.  Atwood,  I'm  sure  I 
wish  you  twice  the  success  you  crave  in  life,  and  I've  no  reason 
to  think  you  overrate  your  power  to  achieve  it ;  but  you 
greatly  overrate  me.  It  would  be  no  condescension  on  my 
part  to  give  you  my  friendship  ;  and  no  doubt  if  you  attain 
much  of  the  success  you  covet  you  will  be  ready  enough  to 
forget  my  existence.  What  induces  you  to  think  that  a  sim 
ple  girl  like  me  can  help  you  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are 
vague  and  visionary,  which  perhaps  is  natural,  since  you  say 
you  are  just  awaking,"  she  concluded,  with  a  little  smiling 
sarcasm. 

"  You  are  unjust  both  to  yourself  and  to  me,"  he  replied 
firmly,  "  and  I  think  I  can  prove  it.  If  I  shall  ever  have  any 
power  in  the  world  it  will  be  in  seeing  clearly  what  is  before 
me.  I  have  seldom  been  away  from  this  country  town,  and 
yet  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  with  a  mind  free  from  prejudice  I 
recognized  your  superiority.  I  brought  the  belle  of  Forest- 
ville  and  placed  her  by  your  side,  and  I  could  think  of  noth 
ing  but  brazen  instruments  until  I  left  her  loudness  at  her 
father's  door.  I  would  not  go  near  her  again  if  there  were 
not  another  woman  in  the  world.  I  saw  at  a  glance  that  she 
was  earthenware  beside  you. ' ' 

Mildred  now  could  not  forbear  laughing  openly.  "  If  you 
lose  your  illusions  so  rapidly,"  she  said,  "  my  turn  will  come 
soon,  and  I  shall  be  china  beside  some  fine  specimen  of 
majolica." 


NEITHER  BO  Y  NOR  MAN.  85 

' '  You  may  laugh  at  me,  but  you  will  one  day  find  I  am 
sincere,  and  not  altogether  a  fool." 

' '  Oh,  F  m  ready  to  admit  that,  even  now.  But  you  are  alto 
gether  mistaken  in  thinking  I  can  help  you.  Indeed  I  scarcely 
see  how  I  can  help  myself.  It  is  a  very  poor  proof  of  your  keen 
discernment  to  associate  me  with  your  kindling  ambition." 

' '  Then  why  had  you  the  power  to  kindle  it  ?  Why  do  I 
think  my  best  thoughts  in  your  presence  ?  Why  do  I  speak 
to  you  now  as  I  never  dreamed  I  could  speak  ?  You  are 
giving  purpose  and  direction  to  my  life,  whether  you  wish  it 
or  not,  whether  you  care  or  not.  You  may  always  be  in 
different  to  the  fact,  still  it  was  your  hand  that  wakened  me. 
I  admit  I'm  rather  dazed  as  yet.  You  may  think  I'm  talk 
ing  to  you  with  the  frankness — perhaps  the  rashness — of  a 
boy,  since  you  are  '  immeasurably  older/  but  the  time  is  not 
very  distant  when  I  shall  take  my  course  with  the  strength 
and  resolution  of  a  man." 

.  "I  should  be  sorry  to  be  the  very  innocent  cause  of  lead 
ing  you  into  thorny  paths.  I  truly  think  you  will  find  more 
happiness  here  in  your  quiet  country  life." 

His  only  answer  was  an  impatient  gesture. 

' '  Perhaps, ' '  she  resumed,  ' '  if  you  knew  more  of  the  world 
you  would  fear  it  more.  I'  m  sure  I  fear  it,  and  with  good 
reason. ' ' 

"  I  do  not  fear  the  world  at  all,"  he  replied.  "  I  would 
fear  to  lose  your  esteem  and  respect  far  more,  and,  distant  as 
you  are  from  me,  I  shall  yet  win  them  both. ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Atwood,  I  suppose  I  have  as  much  vanity  as  most 
girls,  but  you  make  me  blush.  You  are  indeed  dazed,  for 
you  appear  to  take  me  for  a  melodramatic  heroine." 

"  Pardon  me,  I  do  not.  I' ve  been  to  the  theatre  occasion 
ally,  but  you  are  not  at  all  theatrical.  You  are  not  like  the 
heroines  of  the  novels  I've  read,  and  I  suppose  I've  read  too 
many  of  them." 


86  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

1 '  I  fear  you  have, ' '   she  remarked  dryly.      ' '  Pray,  then, 
what  am  I  like  ?" 

' '  And  I  may  seem  to  you  a  hero  of  the  dime  style  ;  but 
wait,  don' t  decide  yet.  What  are  you  like  ?  You  are  gentle, 
like  your  mother.  You  are  exceedingly  fond  of  all  that's 
pretty  and  refined,  so  much  so  that  you  tried  to  introduce  a 
little  grace  into  our  meagre,  angular  farm-house  life — " 

"  Thanks  for  your  aid,"  interrupted  Mildred,  laughing. 
"  I  must  admit  that  you  have  good  eyes." 

:'  You  shrink,"  he  resumed,  "  from  all  that's  ugly,  vulgar, 
or  coarse  in  life.  You  are  an  unhappy  exile  in  our  plain 
home." 

' '  All  which  goes  to  prove  what  an  ordinary  and  unheroic 
nature  I  have.  You  will  soar  far  beyond  me,  Mr.  Atwood, 
for  you  have  portrayed  a  very  weak  character — one  that  is  in 
love  with  the  niceties  of  life,  with  mere  prettiness." 

"  You  are  still  laughing  at  me,  but  I'm  in  earnest ;  and 
if  you  mean  what  you  say,  you  understand  yourself  less  than, 
you  do  me.  Why  will  you  not  go  to  the  hotel  occasionally  ? 
Because  with  all  your  gentleness  you  are  too  proud  to  run  the 
slightest  risk  of  patronage  and  pity  from  those  who  knew  you 
in  your  more  fortunate  days.  Why  do  you  remain  in  your 
little  hot  room  so  much  of  the  time  ?  I  don't  know  ;  but  if 
you  will  permit  a  guess,  you  are  working.  Every  day  you 
grow  less  content  to  sit  still  in  helpless  weakness.  You  are 
far  braver  than  I,  for  I  do  not  fear  the  world  in  the  least  ; 
but,  no  matter  how  much  you  feared  it,  you  would  do  your 
best  to  the  last,  and  never  yield  to  anything  in  it  that  was  low, 
base,  or  mean.  Oh,  you  are  very  gentle,  very  delicate,  and 
you  will  be  misunderstood  ;  but  you  have  the  strongest 
strength  there  is — a  kind  of  strength  that  will  carry  you 
through  everything,  though  it  cost  you  dear. ' ' 

"  And  what  may  that  be  ?"  she  asked,  looking  at  him  now 
in  genuine  wonder. 


NEITHER  BO  Y  NOR  MAN.  87 

"  I  can't  explain  exactly  what  I  mean.  It  is  something 
1  ve  seen  in  mother,  plain  and  simple  as  she  is.  It's  a  kind 
of  enduring  steadfastness;  it's  a  patient  faithfulness.  I 
should  know  just  where  to  find  mother,  and  just  what  to 
expect  from  her,  under  all  possible  circumstances.  I  should 
never  expect  to  see  you  very  different  from  what  you  are,  no 
matter  what  happened.  You  often  have  the  same  look  or 
expression  that  she  has  ;  and  it  means  to  me  that  you  would 
do  the  best  you  could,  although  discouraged  and  almost  hope 
less.  Very  few  soldiers  will  fight  when  they  know  the  battle 
is  going  against  them.  You  would,  as  long  as  you  could 
move  a  finger. ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Atwood,  what  has  put  all  this  into  your  head  ?  This 
seems  very  strange  language  from  you. ' ' 

"  It  is  not  so  strange  as  it  seems.  It  comes  from  the  gift 
on  which  I  base  my  hope  of  success  in  life.  I  see  clearly 
and  vividly  what  is  before  me,  and  draw  my  conclusions.  If 
I  see  the  antlers  of  a  stag  above  some  bushes,  it  is  not  neces 
sary  to  see  the  whole  animal  to  know  he  is  there,  and  what 
kind  of  a  creature  he  is.  I'  m  not  a  scholar,  Miss  Jocelyn, 
but  you  must  not  think  I  do  not  know  anything  because  I 
work  in  the  corn  or  the  hayfield  all  day.  We  have  long 
winters  up  here,  and  I've  studied  some  and  read  a  great  deal 
more.  There  are  but  few  books  in  the  village  library  that  1 
have  not  read  more  or  less  thoroughly,  and  some  of  them 
many  times.  Because  I  was  a  careless,  conceited  fellow  a  few 
weeks  since,  it  does  not  follow  that  I'm  an  ignoramus." 

Mildred  was  decidedly  puzzled.  She  could  not  account 
for  the  change  in  him  ;  and  she  did  not  like  to  think  of 
that  to  which  his  words  and  feelings  pointed.  He  asked  for 
friendship,  but  she  strongly  doubted  whether  such  a  placid 
regard  would  long  satisfy  him.  Her  chief  impulse  was  to 
escape,  for  the  bare  thought  of  words  of  love  from  him  or  any 
one  except  Vinton  Arnold  was  intensely  repugnant.  As  she 


88  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

glanced  around,  seeking  in  what  direction  she  might  take 
her  flight,  she  saw  a  gentleman  coming  rapidly  toward  the 
house.  After  a  second's  hesitation  she  rushed  toward  him, 
crying,  "  Papa,  papa,  you  are  welcome  1" 


A  COUNCIL.  89 


CHAPTER   X. 

A   COUNCIL. 

ROGER  saw  Miss  Jocelyn  rush  into  the  arms  of  a  tall, 
florid  gentleman,  whose  dark  eyes  grew  moist  at  the 
almost  passionate  warmth  of  his  daughter's  greeting.  To 
Mildred  her  father' s  unexpected  coming  was  thrice  welcome, 
for  in  addition  to  her  peculiarly  strong  affection  for  him,  his 
presence  ended  an  interview  not  at  all  agreeable,  and  promised 
relief  from  further  unwelcome  attentions  on  the  part  of  Roger. 
Almost  in  the  moment  of  meeting,  she  resolved  to  persuade 
him  that  his  family  would  be  happier  with  him  in  the  city. 
This  had  been  her  feeling  from  the  first,  but  now  she  was 
wholly  bent  on  leaving  the  farm-house  ;  for  with  her  larger 
experience  and  womanly  intuition  she  read  in  Roger's  frank 
and  still  half-boyish  face  the  foreshadowing  of  an  unwelcome 
regard  which  she  understood  better  than  he  did. 

While  his  manner  for  a  few  weeks  past,  and  especially  his 
words  during  their  recent  interview,  made  it  clear  that  he  was 
not  the  rough,  awkward  rustic  she  had  first  imagined  him  to 
be,  he  still  seemed  very  crude  and  angular.  In  spite  of  her 
love  for  Vinton  Arnold,  which  had  not  abated  in  the  least, 
he  had  ceased  to  be  her  ideal  man.  Nevertheless,  his  refined 
elegance,  his  quiet  self-restraint,  his  knowledge  of  the  niceties 
and  proprieties  of  the  world  to  which  she 'felt  she  belonged 
by  right,  did  combine  to  produce  an  ideal  in  her  mind  of 
which  she  was  but  half  conscious,  and  beside  which  Roger 
appeared  in  a  repulsive  light.  She  shrank  with  instinctive 


90  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

distaste  from  his  very  strength  and  vehemence,  and  feared 
that  she  would  never  be  safe  from  interviews  like  the  one  just 
described,  and  from  awkward,  half  -  concealed  gallantries. 
Even  the  flowers  he  had  set  out  became  odious,  for  they  rep 
resented  a  sentiment  the  very  thought  of  which  inspired 
aversion. 

A  coquette  can  soon  destroy  the  strong  instinct  of  sacred- 
ness  and  exclusiveness  with  which  an  unperverted  girl  guards 
her  heart  from  all  save  the  one  who  seems  to  have  the  divine 
right  and  unexplained  power  to  pass  all  barriers.  Even  while 
fancy  free,  unwelcome  advances  are  resented  almost  as  wrongs 
and  intrusions  by  the  natural  woman  ;  but  after  a  real,  or  even 
an  ideal  image  has  taken  possession  of  the  heart  and  imagi 
nation,  repugnance  is  often  the  sole  reward  of  other  unfortu 
nate  suitors,  and  this  dislike  usually  will  be  felt  and  mani 
fested  in  a  proportion  corresponding  with  the  obtrusiveness  of 
the  attentions,  their  sincerity,  and  the  want  of  tact  with  which 
they  are  offered. 

To  that  degree,  therefore,  that  Roger  was  in  earnest,  Mil 
dred  shrank  from  him,  and  she  feared  that  he  would  not — 
indeed,  from  his  antecedents  could  not — know  how  to  hide 
his  emotions.  His  words  had  so  startled  her  that,  in  her  sur 
prise  and  annoyance,  she  imagined  him  in  a  condition  of 
semi-ambitious  and  semi-amative  ebullition,  and  she  dreaded 
to  think  what  strange  irruptions  might  ensue.  It  would  have 
been  the  impulse  of  many  to  make  the  immature  youth  a 
source  of  transient  amusement,  but  with  a  sensitive  delicacy 
she  shrank  from  him  altogether,  and  wished  to  get  away  as 
soon  as  possible.  Pressing  upon  her  was  the  sad,  practical 
question  of  a  thwarted  and  impoverished  life — impoverished 
to  her  in  the  dreariest  sense — and  it  was  intolerable  that  one 
who  seemed  so  remote  from  her  sphere  should  come  and  ask 
that,  from  her  bruised  and  empty  heart,  she  should  give  all 
sorts  of  melodramatic  sentiment  in  response  to  his  crude, 


A  COUNCIL.  91 

ambitious  impulses,  which  were  yet  as  blind  as  the  mythical 
god  himself. 

Had  she  seen  that  Roger  meant  friendship  only  when  he 
asked  for  friendship,  she  would  not  have  been  so  prejudiced 
against  him  ;  but  the  fact  that  this  "  great  boy"  was  half  con 
sciously  extending  his  hand  for  a  gift  which  now  she  could 
not  bestow  on  the  best  and  greatest,  since  it  was  gone  from 
her  beyond  recall,  appeared  grotesque,  and  such  a  disagreeable 
outcome  of  her  changed  fortunes  that  she  was  almost  tempted 
to  hate  him.  There  are  some  questions  on  which  women 
scarcely  reason — they  only  feel  intensely. 

Mildred,  therefore,  was  heartily  glad  that  Rogei  did  not 
wait  to  be  introduced  to  her  father,  and  that  he  kept  himself 
aloof  from  the  reunited  family  during  the  evening.  She  also 
was  pleased  that  they  were  not  joined  by  the  Atwoods  at  the 
supper-table.  That  this  considerate  delicacy  was  due  to  the 
"  young  barbarian's"  suggestion  she  did  not  dream,  but  gave 
good-hearted  but  not  very  sensitive  Mrs.  Atwood  all  the  credit. 
As  for  poor  Roger,  his  quick  insight,  his  power  to  guess 
something  of  people's  thoughts  and  feelings  from  the  ex 
pression  of  their  faces,  brought  but  little  present  comfort  or 
promise  for  the  future. 

"  I  made  a  bad  impression  at  the  start,"  he  muttered, 
' '  and  it  will  be  long  before  she  loses  it,  if  she  ever  does. 
She  shrinks  from  me  as  from  something  coarse  and  rough. 
She  feels  that  I  don' t  belong  to  her  world  at  all.  In  fact, 
her  father' s  fine  bearing,  his  erect,  elegant  carriage  make  me 
feel  as  if  I  were  but  a  country  lout  in  very  truth. ' ' 

The  reception  given  to  Mr.  Jocelyn  satisfied  Mrs.  Atwood 
thoroughly  that  his  prolonged  absence  did  not  result  from 
any  alienation  from  his  family.  They  overwhelmed  him  with 
caresses,  and  either  Fred  or  Minnie  could  scarcely  be  kept 
out  of  his  arms  a  moment 

"  Fanny,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "  I  almost  made  a  vow  that  I 


92  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

would  not  come  here  until  I  had  secured  a  position  that 
would  give  you  all  the  comforts  of  life,  if  not  at  once  its  lux 
uries  ;  but  such  positions  are  occupied,  and  when  one  becomes 
vacant  they  are  filled  by  relatives  of  the  firm,  or  by  those  who 
have  stronger  claims  than  I  can  present.  Still  my  friends  are 
working  for  me,  and  I  have  the  prospect  of  employment 
where  the  compensation  will  be  small  at  first,  but  if  I  can 
draw  a  considerable  Southern  trade  it  will  be  increased 
rapidly. ' ' 

And  yet  he  sighed  while  revealing  this  hopeful  outlook, 
and  Mildred  noticed  that  he  sighed  more  than  once  during  the 
evening,  in  spite  of  the  torrent  of  affectionate  welcome  which 
almost  swept  him  away. 

After  Belle  and  the  younger  children  were  sleeping,  the 
husband  and  wife  with  Mildred  talked  late  over  their  pros 
pects.  Mr.  Jocelyn  suggested  that  they  should  remain  in  the 
country,  and  even  that  they  should  rent  a  small  cottage  in 
Forestville  or  elsewhere,  but  his  gentle  wife  soon  proved  that 
on  some  occasions  she  could  be  decided. 

"  No,  Martin,"  she  said,  with  the  quiet  emphasis  which 
reveals  a  purpose  not  to  be  combated,  ' '  one  thing  is  settled 
— there  must  be  no  more  separation.  I  have  suffered  too 
much  during  these  last  few  weeks  ever  to  listen  again  to  such 
an  arrangement.  Now  that  you  are  with  us  once  more,  I 
learn  that  the  ache  in  my  heart  was  caused  not  so  much  by 
losses  and  the  prospect  of  poverty  as  by  loneliness  and  the 
feeling  that  you  were  left  to  struggle  by  yourself.  It's  my 
place  to  be  with  you,  and  I  am  willing  to  live  anywhere  and 
in  any  way.  I  can  see  that  I  might  have  aided  you  in  pro 
viding  against  this  evil  time,  but  it  seems  now  that  I  thought 
only  of  what  we  wanted  for  each  day  as  it  came,  and  the 
trouble  was  that  we  all  got  just  what  we  wanted.  Here  is 
the  result.  Oh,  I've  thought  it  over  through  long  sleepless 
nights  till  my  heart  ached  with  a  pain  that  I  hope  none  of 


A  COUNCIL.  93 

you  will  ever  know.  But  to  sit  idly  here  and  wait  while 
you  are  trying  to  retrieve  my  folly  is  a  greater  punishment 
than  I  can  endure.  Give  me  something  to  do  which  will  be 
of  help  to  you,  and  I  will  do  it  gladly,  even  though  it  be  in 
two  attic  rooms." 

"Mamma's  right,"  added  Mildred  earnestly.  "Papa, 
you  must  find  a  place  for  us  in  New  York — a  place  within 
our  means.  Let  us  begin  life  right  this  time,  and  I  believe 
God  will  bless  and  prosper  us.  It  won' t  be  many  days  before 
Belle  and  I  will  find  something  to  do." 

Mr.  Jocelyn  sighed  more  deeply  than  ever,  and,  indeed, 
appeared  so  overcome  for  a  few  moments  that  he  could  not 
speak.  At  last  he  faltered,  "  I  have  all  of  a  Southern  man's 
pride,  and  it's  more  bitter  than  death  to  me  that  my  wife  and 
daughters  must  work  for  their  bread." 

"  Papa,"  exclaimed  Mildred,  "  would  it  not  be  infinitely 
more  bitter  to  us  all  to  eat  the  bread  of  charity  ?  I  shall  pre 
tend  to  no  unnatural  heroism,  nor  say  I  like  toil  and  poverty. 
On  the  contrary,  I  think  I  shrink  from  such  things  more 
than  most  girls  do.  But  I  don' t  propose  to  sit  down  and  wring 
my  hands.  I  can  put  them  to  a  better  use.  We  must  just 
put  away  all  talk  of  pride  and  sentiment,  and  remember  only 
our  poverty  and  self-respect.  As  Christian  and  sensible 
people  we  are  bound  to  accept  of  our  life  and  make  the  best 
of  it.  You  and  mother  both  know  how  much  this  change  has 
cost  me,"  she  concluded,  with  a  few  half-stifled  sobs,  "  and 
if  I  am  willing  to  enter  on  a  cheerful,  patient  effort  to  make 
the  best  of  life  as  it  is,  I  think  all  the  rest  might,  too.  If  we 
give  way  to  despondency  we  are  lost.  Let  us  be  together 
again,  and  pull  together  as  one. ' ' 

' '  The  idea  of  Nan  and  the  children  coming  back  to  the 
city  in  August !"  said  Mr.  Jocelyn  dejectedly.  "  You  don't 
either  of  you  realize  what  you  are  talking  about.  We  should 
have  to  go  into  a  tenement-house." 


94  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Martin,  I  do  realize  it,"  replied  his  wife  earnestly. 
"  The  country  is  doing  me  no  good — indeed  I'm  failing  in 
health.  Nothing  does  us  good  when  we  are  unhappy  and 
anxious.  Find  me  two  rooms  in  a  tenement-house  if  we 
cannot  afford  more,  and  let  us  be  together  as  soon  as  pos 
sible." 

':  Well,"  said  Mr.  Jocelyn,  after  a  long  breath,  "  with 
such  a  wife  and  such  children  to  work  for  a  man  ought  to  be 
able  to  do  great  things  ;  but  it' s  much  the  same  as  it  was  in 
the  army — if  one  lost  his  place  in  the  ranks  he  was  hustled 
about  in  everybody's  way,  and  if  weak  and  disabled  he  was 
left  to  his  fate.  The  world  goes  right  on  and  over  you  if  you 
don't  stand  aside.  I  know  you've  suffered,  Nan,  and  you 
know  that  if  I  had  my  wish  you  would  never  have  a  care  or  a 
pain  ;  but  God  knows  I've  suffered  too.  After  you  all  were 
gone  and  my  duties  to  my  former  partners  ceased,  I  began  to 
learn  from  experience  how  difficult  it  is  in  these  cursed  times 
to  get  a  foothold,  and  I  became  almost  sleepless  from  anxiety. 
Then  set  in  that  villainous  neuralgia,  which  always  strikes  a 
man  when  he's  down,  and  for  a  week  or  more  it  seemed  that 
I  should  almost  lose  my  reason." 

"  Oh,  Martin,  Martin  !"  his  wife  exclaimed  reproachfully, 
"  and  you  did  not  let  us  know  !" 

' '  Why  should  I  ?  It  would  only  have  added  to  your  bur 
den,  and  would  not  have  helped  me.  I  was  glad  you  knew 
nothing  about  it." 

' '  This  is  another  proof  that  we  must  be  together, ' '  said  his 
wife,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears.  "  How  did  you  come  to  get 
better  ?' ' 

' '  Oh,  the  doctor  gave  me  something  that  made  me  sleep, 
and  I  seldom  have  neuralgia  now." 

' '  Come,  papa, ' '  cried  Mildred,  as  she  put  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  leaned  her  face  against  his,  ' '  there  are  thousands 
worse  off  than  we  are,  and  thousands  more  have  retrieved  far 


A   COUNCIL.  95 

worse  disasters.  Now  take  courage  ;  we'  11  all  stand  by  you, 
and  we'll  all  help  you.  We  will  one  day  have  a  prettier  home 
than  ever,  and  it  will  be  all  our  own,  so  that  no  one  can  drive 
us  from  it ;"  and  with  hope  springing  up  in  her  heart  she 
tried  to  inspire  hope  and  courage  in  theirs. 

"  Oh,  Millie,"  he  said,  taking  her  on  his  lap,  "  when  you 
coax  and  pet  one  you  are  irresistible.  We  will  begin  again, 
and  win  back  all  and  more  than  we  have  lost." 

Then,  partly  to  amuse  her  father  and  mother,  but  more 
for  the  purpose  of  hastening  their  departure,  Mildred  told 
them  of  Roger's  peculiar  mood,  and  her  conscience  smote 
her  a  little  as  she  caricatured  rather  than  characterized  the 
youth.  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  in  her  kindliness,  took  his  part,  and 
said,  "  Millie,  you  are  satirical  and  unjust.  I'm  sure  he's 
a  well-meaning  young  man. ' ' 

"The   dear   little   mother!"    cried    Mildred,     laughing; 

"  when  she  can't  think  of  anything  else  good  to  say  of  a 

person,  she  assures  us  that  he  is  '  well-meaning. '     Life  may 

"bring  me  many  misfortunes,  but  I  shall  nes'er  marry  what 

mamma  calls  '  a  well-meaning  man.'  ' 

"  But,  Millie,  I'm  sure  he's  been  very  good  and  kind  to 
us  all,  and  he's  kind  to  his  mother  and  sister,  and  he  seems 
steady — ' ' 

"Well,  mamma,  admitting  it  all,  what  follows?"  asked 
Mildred. 

"  It  follows  that  we  had  better  go  away,"  said  Mrs.  Joce 
lyn,  with  her  low,  sweet  laugh,  that  had  been  rarely  heard  of 
late  ;  "  but  I  don't  like  you  to  be  unjust  to  the  young  fellow. 
After  all,  he's  not  so  very  much  to  blame,  Millie,"  sha 
added,  with  a  little  nod.  "  If  I  were  he  I  fear  I  might  be  in 
the  same  fix." 

"  Oh,  papa,  now  we  must  go  ;  for  if  mamma's  sympathies 
are  once  aroused  in  behalf  of  this  '  steady,  well-meaning 
young  man  ' — there  !  I  will  talk  no  more  nonsense  to-night, 


9<5  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

although  I  often  find  nonsense  a  sort  of  life-preserver  that 
keeps  me  from  sinking.  I  admit,  mamma,  that  I  have  been 
unjust  to  Mr.  Atvvood.  He's  far  more  clever  than  I  ever 
imagined  him  to  be,  but  he's  so  different" — she  finished  the 
sentence  with  a  little  repellent  gesture  that  her  mother  well 
understood. 

They  were  all  comforted,  and  far  more  hopeful  from  their 
frank  interchange  of  thought  and  feeling,  and  both  father 
and  mother  breathed  a  fervent  "  God  bless  you,  Millie,"  as 
they  separated,  long  past  midnight. 

' '  God  will  bless  us, ' '  said  the  young  girl,  "  if  we  will  just 
simply  try  to  do  what  is  right  and  best  every  day.  The  bless 
ing  will  come  on  doing,  not  waiting. ' ' 

She  had  not  been  in  her  room  very  long  before  hearing  the 
crunching  of  gravel  under  the  wheels  of  Roger's  buggy. 
With  a  smile  she  thought,  ' '  He  must  have  found  a  more 
sympathizing  ear  and  heart  than  mine  to  have  remained  out 
so  late." 


A   SHADOW.  97 


CHAPTER   XI. 

A   SHADOW. 

"  ]\  T  RS.  ATWOOD,"  said  Mildred  the  next  morning, 

1 V-L  ' '  I  want  to  thank  you  for  your  kindness  in  giving 
us  our  supper  alone  with  papa  the  first  evening  of  his  arrival ; 
but  you  need  not  put  yourself  to  any  extra  trouble  to-day." 

"  Roger  is  the  one  to  thank,"  replied  Mrs.  Atwood. 
"  He's  grown  so  different,  so  considerate  like,  that  I  scarcely 
know  him  any  more  than  I  do  the  old  place  he's  so  fixed  up. 
He  says  he's  going  to  paint  the  house  after  the  summer 
work  slacks  off.  I  don't  see  what's  come  over  him,  but  I 
like  the  change  very  much.' 

Mildred  flushed  slightly,  but  said,  with  some  constraint, 
"  Please  thank  him  then  from  papa  and  mamma,  but  do  not 
let  us  make  you  further  trouble.  We  shall  all  return  to  the 
city  soon,  and  then  you  will  have  easier  times  every  way." 

"I'm  sorry  to  hear  that,  Miss  Jocelyn,  for  we  shall  miss 
you  all  very  much.  You've  done  us  good  in  more  ways 
than  one." 

Roger  did  not  appear  at  breakfast.  ' '  A  young  horse 
strayed  from  the  pasture,  and  Roger  is  out  looking  for  him, ' ' 
his  mother  explained  when  Mrs.  Jocelyn  asked  after  him. 

Although  not  a  member  of  any  church,  Mr.  Jocelyn  had 
great  respect  for  his  wife  and  daughter's  faith,  and  accompa 
nied  them  to  service  that  morning  very  readily.  Roger  ap 
peared  in  time  to  take  Belle,  as  usual,  but  she  found  him  so 
taciturn  and  preoccupied  that  she  whispered  to  Mildred, 
"  You've  spoiled  him  for  me.  He  sits  staring  like  an  owl  in 


98  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

the  sunlight,  and  seeing  just  about  as  much.  You  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  make  him  so  glum.  I  intend  to 
have  a  dozen  beaux,  and  to  keep  them  all  jolly." 

Mildred  was  obliged  to  admit  to  herself  that  the  young 
fellow  was  very  undemonstrative  at  dinner,  and  that  he  did 
not  exhibit  the  rusticity  that  she  half  hoped  to  see.  She 
gained  the  impression  that  he  was  observing  her  father  very 
closely,  and  that  no  remark  of  his  escaped  him.  ' '  He  has 
the  eyes  of  a  lynx, ' '  she  thought,  with  a  frown.  Still,  apart 
from  a  certain  annoyance  at  his  deep  interest  in  her  and  all 
relating  to  her,  she  was  rather  pleased  at  the  impression  which 
such  a  man  as  her  father  must  make  on  one  so  unsophisticat 
ed.  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  a  finished  man  of  the  world,  and  his 
large  experience  left  its  impress  on  all  that  he  said  and  did. 
Although  a  little  courtly  in  manner,  he  was  so  kindly  and 
frank  in  nature  that  his  superiority  was  not  at  all  oppressive, 
and  with  true  Southern  bonhomie  he  made  the  farmer's  family 
quite  at  ease,  leading  them  to  speak  freely  of  their  rural 
affairs.  Susan  soon  lost  all  sense  of  restraint  and  began  to 
banter  her  brother. 

1 '  You  must  have  had  a  very  affecting  time  in  making  up 
with  Amelia  Stone  to  have  stayed  out  so  late, ' '  she  remarked 
sotto  wee. 

"  I've  not  seen  Amelia  Stone  since  the  evening  she  was 
here,"  he  answered  dryly. 

"  Indeed  I  what  other  charmer -then  tied  you  to  her  apron* 
strings  so  tightly  ?  You  are  very  fickle. ' ' 

"Now  you've  hit  it,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  flush. 
"  I  was  so  undecided  that  I  drove  by  every  door,  and  was 
not  tied  at  all. ' ' 

Belle  "  made  eyes"  at  Mildred,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  It's 
you  who  are  distracting  him." 

' '  Next  time, ' '  Sue  continued,  ' '  I  think  it  would  be  well 
to  make  up  your  mind  before  Sunday  morning. 


A   SHADOW.  99 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,"  replied  Roger — Belle  looked  at 
Mildred  with  an  expression  of  horror,  to  her  intense  annoy 
ance — ' '  I  shall  trouble  no  one, ' '  he  added,  quietly. 

Belle  now  gave  such  a  great  sigh  of  relief  that  he  turned 
upon  her  too  swift  a  glance  to  leave  time  for  disguise.  He 
smiled  a  little  bitterly,  and  then  began  talking  in  an  off-hand 
way  to  Mr.  Jocelyn  about  the  hotel  a  few  miles  distant,  say 
ing  that  it  had  filled  up  very  rapidly  of  late.  As  they  rose 
Irom  the  table  he  remarked,  hesitatingly,  "  My  horse  and 
wagon  are  at  your  service  this  afternoon  or  evening  if  you 
would  like  to  take  a  drive." 

Mr.  Jocelyn  was  about  to  accept,  but  Mildred  trod  signifi 
cantly  on  his  foot  Therefore  he  thanked  Roger  cordially, 
and  said  he  would  spend  a  quiet  day  with  his  family. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  be  under  the  slightest  obligations  to 
him,"  explained  Mildred  when  they  were  alone  ;  "  and 
Belle,"  she  warned,  "  you  must  stop  your  nonsense  at  once. 
I  won't  endure  another  trace  of  it." 

"  Oh,  indeed  !  I  didn't  know  you  were  so  touchy  about 
him,"  cried  the  girl.  "  Is  it  for  his  sake  or  your  own  that 
you  are  so  careful  ?  You're  stupid  not  to  let  him  amuse  you, 
since  you've  spoiled  him  for  me." 

Her  sister  made  no  reply,  but  gave  the  giddy  child  a 
glance  that  quieted  her  at  once.  When  Mildred  was  aroused 
her  power  over  others  was  difficult  to  explain,  for,  gentle  as 
she  was,  her  will  at  times  seemed  irresistible. 

Roger  did  not  need  to  be  told  in  so  many  words  that  his 
overtures  of  "  friendship"  had  been  practically  declined. 
Her  tones,  her  polite,  but  distant  manner  revealed  the  truth 
clearly.  He  was  sorely  wounded,  but  so  far  from  being 
disheartened,  his  purpose  to  win  her  recognition  was  only 
intensified. 

' '  I  can  at  least  compel  her  respect  and  prove  myself  her 
equal, ' '  he  thought,  and  instead  of  lounging  or  sleeping  away 


loo  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 

the  afternoon,  as  had  been  his  custom,  he  took  a  book  and 
read  steadily  for  several  hours.  At  last  he  left  his  room  to 
aid  his  father  in  the  evening  labors  of  the  farm-yard,  and  in 
doing  so  would  have  to  pass  near  Mr.  Jocelyn,  who,  with  his 
family,  was  seated  under  a  wide-spreading  tree.  The  gentle 
man  evidently  was  in  a  very  genial  mood  ;  he  was  caressing 
his  children,  flattering  his  wife  and  Mildred,  and  rallying  Belle 
after  her  own  frolicsome  humor.  Roger  thought,  as  he 
looked  at  them  a  few  moments  through  the  kitchen  window, 
that  he  had  never  seen  a  happier  family,  and  with  a  sigh  wished 
that  it  was  his  privilege  to  join  them  without  being  thought 
an  intruder.  Mildred's  reserve,  however,  formed  an  impass 
able  barrier,  and  he  was  hastening  by  with  downcast  eyes, 
when,  to  his  surprise  and  the  young  girl's  evident  astonish 
ment,  Mr.  Jocelyn  arose  and  said,  ' '  Ah,  Mr.  Atwood,  we'  re 
glad  to  see  you.  Won't  you  join  our  little  party?  I  want 
to  thank  you  again  for  offering  me  your  horse  and  carriage, 
but  I  assure  you  that  a  quiet  hour  like  this  with  one's  family 
after  long  separation  is  happiness  enough.  Still,  as  a  South 
ern  man,  I  appreciate  courtesy,  and  am  always  ready  to 
respond  to  it  in  like  spirit.  Moreover,  it  gives  me  peculiar 
pleasure  to  see  a  Northern  man  developing  traits  which,  if 
they  were  general,  would  make  the  two  great  sections  of  our 
land  one  in  truth  as  well  as  in  name. 

Roger  gave  Mildred  a  quick,  questioning  glance,  and  saw 
that  she  was  regarding  her  father  with  much  perplexity. 

"Mr.  Jocelyn,"  he  said  quietly,  "the  little  courtesy  of 
which  you  speak  has  cost  me  nothing,  and  if  it  had  it  would 
not  be  worth  the  words  you  bestow  upon  it." 

"  I  do  not  think  of  the  act  itself  so  much  as  the  spirit,  the 
disposition  it  indicates,"  resumed  Mr.  Jocelyn  in  a  manner 
that  was  courtly  and  pronounced,  but  otherwise  natural  and 
quiet  enough.  "  I  do  not  judge  superficially,  but  look  past 
apparent  trifles  to  the  character  they  suggest.  Moreover,  my 


A  SHADOW.  iox 

wife  informs  me  that  you  have  been  very  polite  to  her,  and 
very  kind  to  Belle  and  the  children,  whom  you  have  often 
taken  out  to  drive  without  any  compensation  whatever. 
Since  you  will  not  make  a  business  matter  of  such  things,  I 
wish  to  repay  you  in  the  coin  which  gentlemen  can  always 
receive — that  of  friendly  acknowledgments. 

' '  Then  please  consider  me  amply  repaid, ' '  and  with  a 
smile  and  a  bow  he  was  about  to  retire. 

"  Do  not  hasten  away,  sir,"  Mr.  Jocelyn  began  again. 
"  On  this  day  of  rest  your  duties  cannot  be  pressing.  I  want 
to  assure  you  further  of  the  pleasure  I  have  in  finding  a 
young  man  who,  so  far  from  being  rendered  callous  and 
material  by  hard  and  rather  homely  work,  is  alive  to  all  refin 
ing  influences.  The  changes  in  this  place  for  the  better  since 
I  was  here,  and  those  pretty  flowers  yonder,  all  prove  that  you 
have  an  eye  for  the  beautiful  as  well  as  the  practical.  My 
daughter  Mildred  also  informs  me  that  you  are  cherishing 
hopes  and  ambitions  that  will  eventually  enlarge  your  sphere 
of  life  and  take  you  out  into  the  great  world. 

Hitherto  Roger's  eyes  had  been  fixed  keenly  and  unwaver 
ingly  on  Mr.  Jocelyn' s  urbane  countenance,  as  if  he  would 
detect  the  cause  of  such  unlooked-for  words,  but  at  the 
mention  of  Mildred's  name  his  brow  and  even  neck  was 
suffused.  "  She  must  have  spoken  of  me  kindly,"  he 
thought,  "  or  her  father  would  not  be  so  friendly."  But 
when  a  swift  glance  around  revealed  that  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was 
looking  at  her  husband  in  perplexity,  that  Mildred  was  not 
even  trying  to  conceal  her  vexation  and  amazement,  and  that 
Belle  had  stuffed  her  handkerchief  into  her  mouth  to  prevent 
laughter,  a  spark  of  anger  glittered  in  his  eyes.  His  first 
thought  was  that  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  indulging  in  unexpected 
irony  at  his  expense,  and  the  ready  youth  whose  social  habits 
had  inured  him  to  much  chaffing  was  able  to  reply,  although 
a  little  stiffly  and  awkwardly,  "  I  suppose  most  young  men 


102  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

have  ambitious  hopes  of  doing  something  in  the  world,  and 
yet  that  does  not  prevent  mine  from  seeming  absurd.  At  any 
rate,  it's  clear  that  I  had  better  reveal  them  hereafter  by  deeds 
rather  than  words,"  and  with  a  very  slight  bow  he  strode 
away,  but  not  so  quickly  that  he  failed  to  hear  Mildred's 
voice  in  the  exclamation,  "Oh,  papa!  how  could  you?" 
and  then  followed  a  paroxysm  of  laughter  from  Belle. 

Roger  was  deeply  incensed,  for  he  believed  that  Mr.  Joce- 
lyn  and  Belle  were  deliberately  ridiculing  him.  That  Mil 
dred  had  repeated  his  conversation  was  evident,  but  her  man 
ner  showed  that  she  did  not  expect  his  words  to  be  used 
against  him  so  openly,  and  that  she  had  no  part  in  the  cruel 
sport.  The  worst  he  could  charge  against  her  was  exclusive 
pride  ;  and  he  did  Mrs.  Jocelyn  the  justice  to  see  that  she 
was  pained  by  the  whole  affair.  His  face  grew  rigid  as  he 
finished  his  work  and  he  muttered,  ' '  They  shall  see  that  my 
pride  is  equal  to  theirs  ;  I  won't  go  out  of  my  way  a  hair's 
breadth  for  them, ' '  and  he  walked  in  to  supper  as  if  he  were 
at  home  and  had  an  absolute  right  to  be  there.  He  had 
been  at  the  table  but  a  few  moments,  however,  before  the 
aspect  of  the  Jocelyn  family  began  to  puzzle  him  exceedingly. 
Belle  appeared  as  if  she  had  been  crying  ;  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
looked  perplexed  and  worried,  and  in  Mildred's  eyes  there 
were  anxiety  and  trouble.  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  not  lost  his 
serenity  in  the  least,  but  his  aspect  now  was  grave,  and  his 
manner  more  courtly  than  ever.  He  did  not  seem  inclined 
to  say  very  much,  however,  and  had  an  abstracted,  dreamy 
look  as  if  his  thoughts  were  far  away.  When  he  did  speak, 
Roger  thought  that  Mildred  looked  apprehensive,  as  if  fearing 
that  he  might  again  say  something  embarrassing,  but  his 
words  were  quiet  and  measured,  betraying  no  excitement. 
The  expression  of  his  face,  however,  seemed  unnatural  to 
Roger's  close  yet  furtive  scrutiny.  An  hour  before  his  eyes 
had  been  bright  and  dilated,  and  his  countenance  full  of 


A  SHADOW.  103 

animation  ;  now  all  the  light  and  cheerfulness  were  fading, 
and  the  man  seemed  to  grow  older  and  graver  by  moments. 
Was  the  dusky  pallor  stealing  across  his  features  caused  by 
the  shadows  of  evening  ?  Roger  thought  not,  but  a  resentful 
glance  from  Mildred  warned  him  to  curb  his  curiosity. 

He  was  curious,  but  not  in  a  vulgar  or  prying  way,  and 
his  anger  was  all  gone.  He  was  sure  that  something  was 
amiss  with  Mr.  Jocelyn,  and  that  his  family  also  was  dis 
turbed  and  anxious.  There  had  been  none  of  the  incohe- 
rency  and  excitement  of  a  man  who  had  drank  too  much,  but 
only  a  slight  exaggeration  of  the  genial  traits  manifested  at  the 
dinner-table  followed  by  a  quietude  and  abstraction  that  were 
not  natural.  Mental  aberrations,  even  though  slight  and 
temporary,  are  instinctively  felt  by  those  who  are  sound 
and  normal  in  mind.  Still  Roger  would  have  charged  Mr. 
Jocelyn' s  words  and  manner  to  the  peculiarities  of  a  stranger, 
had  not  his  family  been  perplexed  and  troubled  also. 
"  There's  something  wrong  about  him,"  he  said  to  himself 
as  he  rose  from  the  table  ;  "he  lacks  balance,  or  he's  not 
well.  I  half  believe  that  the  time  will  come  when  that  young 
girl  will  be  the  stay  and  support  of  the  whole  family.  You 
cannot  prevent  my  friendliness,  Miss  Jocelyn,  any  more  than 
you  can  stop  the  sun  from  shining,  and  some  day  it  will  melt 
all  your  reserve  and  coldness. ' '  He  took  his  volume  of  his 
tory  out  on  the  sward  near  the  porch,  resolving  to  see  the 
end  of  the  domestic  drama.  His  mother  had  told  him  dur 
ing  the  day  that  their  "  boarders"  would  soon  depart.  He 
had  made  no  response  whatever,  but  his  sinking  spirits  re 
vealed  to  him  that  in  some  way  his  life  had  become  involved 
with  that  of  the  girl  now  so  distant  and  repellent. 

He  did  not  turn  many  leaves,  but  he  sat  with  the  book  in 
his  lap  until  long  after  nightfall.  The  domestic  drama  ap 
parently  had  a  very  prosaic  ending.  Mr.  Jocelyn  and  his 
family  returned  for  a  time  to  their  seats  under  the  tree,  but 


i°4  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

all  except  the  little  children  were  apparently  under  some 
constraint.  The  latter  soon  grew  sleepy,  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
took  them  in  to  bed.  Belle  was  not  long  in  following  them, 
darting  an  ireful  glance  at  Roger  in  passing,  to  which  he  re 
sponded  by  a  rather  mocking  smile.  ' '  We  were  having  a 
lovely  time  till  you  came,  you  old  marplot,"  she  muttered 
under  her  breath. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  grew  more  and  more  quiet  until  his  head  sank 
on  his  breast,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  Mildred  aroused 
him  sufficiently  to  urge  his  retiring.  At  last  he  took  his 
daughter's  arm  and  entered  the  house  as  if  in  a  dream.  The 
young  girl's  face  was  downcast  and  averted.  As  they  passed 
between  the  youth  and  the  still  glowing  west  they  cast  a  faint 
shadow  upon  him.  Though  by  no  means  imaginative,  he 
noted  the  shadow  and  thought  about  it.  It  seemed  that  it 
still  rested  on  him  after  they  were  gone,  and  that  it  might 
never  pass  away.  His  was  not  a  dreamy,  fanciful  nature, 
that  could  create  a  score  of  improbable  contingencies,  but  his 
shrewd,  strong  sense  was  quick  to  recognize  traces  of  weak 
ness  and  untrustworthiness  in  those  he  met,  and  the  im 
pression  grew  upon  him  that  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  not  a  well- 
balanced  man.  "  If  he  fails  her,  I  will  not,"  he  murmured. 
Then  with  a  short  laugh  he  continued,  "  How  is  it  that  I 
am  ready  to  admit  such  a  far-reaching  claim  from  one  who 
repels  and  dislikes  me  ?  I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  care. 
She  has  waked  me  up  ;  she  has  the  power  of  calling  into 
action  every  faculty  I  have.  Already,  I  scarcely  know  my 
self.  I  never  lived  before,  and  I  feel  that  I  can  become  a 
man — perhaps  a  great  man — if  I  follow  this  impulse,  and  I 
shall  follow  it." 

Soon  all  were  sleeping,  and  mother  and  daughter  were  alone. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Mildred,  in  a  low,  troubled  tone,  "  it 
seemed  to  me  that  papa  acted  very  strangely  this  afternoon 
and  evening.  Can  he  be  well  ?" 


A  SHADOW.  105 

"  Oh,  Millie,"  cried  the  loving,  anxious  wife,  "  I  fear  he 
is  not  well  at  all ;  and  no  wonder,  when  we  think  of  the  long 
strain  he  has  been  under.  Haven' t  you  noticed  that  his  ap 
petite  is  very  poor  ?  to-night  he  scarcely  ate  a  mouthful.  He 
has  just  been  trying  to  keep  up  ever  since  he  came,  and  this 
afternoon  he  made  unusual  effort ;  reaction  of  course  fol 
lowed,  and  at  last  he  was  so  weary  and  troubled  that  he  could 
not  hide  his  feelings  from  us. ' ' 

' '  I  suppose  you  take  the  right  view, ' '  said  Mildred  hesi 
tatingly,  "  but  papa  has  not  seemed  the  same  this  afternoon 
as  at  other  times  when  tired  and  worried.  His  gayety  was  a 
little  extravagant,  and  so  it  might  naturally  be  if  it  were 
forced.  But  I  can't  understand  his  speaking  to  young  Mr. 
Atwood  as  he  did.  Papa  never  showed  such  a  lack  of  tact 
or  delicacy  before.  I  would  not  dare  tell  him  things  if  he 
spoke  of  them  afterward  so  inopportunely.  I  felt  as  if  I 
could  sink  into  the  ground.  And  when  Belle — who  can't 
help  seeing  everything  in  a  ridiculous  light — began  to  laugh 
he  turned  and  spoke  to  her  as  he  has  never  spoken  to  any  of 
us  before.  And  yet  he  did  not  seem  angry,  but  his  gravity 
was  more  oppressive  than  any  amount  of  natural  anger. 

"  Well,  Millie,  your  father  is  very  kind-hearted,  and,  like 
all  Southern  men,  very  sensitive  to  kindness  and  courtesy.  I 
suppose  he  thought  that  you  and  Belle  had  not  treated  Roger 
well,  and  that  he  ought  to  make  amends.  The  real  expla 
nation  is  that  he  is  overstrained  and  unhappy,  and  so  cannot 
act  like  himself." 

"  I  do  hope  he  is  not  going  to  be  ill, ' '  faltered  Mildred. 
' ' '  Such  a  strange  lethargy  came  over  him  after  you  left  us. 
Oh,  the  day  is  ending  horribly,  and  it  leaves  a  weight  of 
foreboding  on  my  mind.  I  wish  we  could  get  away  to-mor 
row,  for  I  feel  that  Roger  Atwood  is  watching  us,  and  that 
nothing  escapes  him.  I  know  that  papa's  manner  seemed 
strange  to  him  as  well  as  to  us,  and  I  almost  hate  him  for  his 


106  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

obtrusive  and  prying  interest.  Why  can't  he  see  that  he's 
nothing  to  us,  nor  we  to  him,  and  let  us  alone  ?" 

She  often  recalled  these  words  in  after  years. 

The  wife  went  to  her  room  and  found  that  her  husband 
was  sleeping  quietly.  Returning,  she  said,  more  cheerily, 
"  I  think  papa  will  be  like  himself  after  a  good  night's  sleep, 
and  there's  every  promise  now  that  he'll  get  it ;  so  don't  look 
on  the  dark  side,  Millie,  nor  worry  about  that  young  man. 
He  don't  mean  to  be  obtrusive,  and  I  must  say  that  I  think 
he  behaves  very  well  considering.  With  troubles  like  ours, 
why  think  of  such  a  transient  annoyance  ?  If  I  only  knew 
just  how  I  could  help  your  father  I  would  not  think  about 
much  else." 

It  would  have  been  well  indeed  if  she  could  have  known, 
for  she  would  have  taken  from  his  pocketbook  a  small 
syringe  and  a  bottle  of  Magendie's  solution  of  morphia  ;  she 
^vould  have  entreated  him  upon  her  knees,  she  would  have 
bound  him  by  the  strongest  oaths  to  die  rather  than  to  use  it 
again.  The  secret  of  all  that  was  peculiar  and  unnatural  in 
his  conduct  can  be  explained  by  the  fact  that  early  in  the 
afternoon  he  went  apart  for  a  moment,  and  with  a  little  in 
nocent-looking  instrument  injected  into  his  arm  the  amount 
of  the  fatal  drug  which  he  believed  he  could  enjoy  without 
betraying  himself. 


VIEWLESS  FETTERS.  107 


CHAPTER   XII. 

VIEWLESS    FETTERS. 

A  LTHOUGH  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  retired  so  early  and 
/A.  slept  heavily  until  an  hour  that  at  the  farm-house 
was  late,  the  reader  knows  that  his  sleep  was  not  the  natural 
repose  which  brings  freshness  and  elasticity.  His  wife  and 
Mildred,  however,  did  not  know  this,  and  his*  languor,  con 
tinued  drowsiness,  and  depression,  which  even  much  effort 
could  not  disguise,  confirmed  their  dread  of  an  impending 
illness.  He  saw  their  anxiety,  and  took  advantage  of  their 
fears  to  hide  his  weakness. 

;'  Yes,"  he  sighed,  in  response  to  their  gentle  solicitude  as 
he  pushed  away  his  almost  untasted  breakfast,  "  I  suppose 
my  health  has  been  impaired  by  worry  of  mind  and  the  heat 
in  town.  I'm  better,  though,  than  I  have  been.  I  don't  see 
how  you  are  going  to  endure  the  city. ' ' 

They  both  assured  him,  however,  that  they  would  not  even 
consider  any  other  arrangement  except  that  already  agreed 
upon,  and  urged  that  he  should  return  to  town  that  very  day, 
his  wife  adding  that  just  as  soon  as  he  had  secured  rooms 
within  their  means  she  would  join  him  and  prepare  them  for 
the  family. 

"  Oh,  Nan,"  he  again  said  dejectedly,  "it's  a  cruel  fate 
which  compels  me  to  take  you  to  a  tenement-house  in 
August. ' ' 

"  It  would  be  far  more  cruel  to  leave  me  here,"  his  wife 
answered  earnestly.  "  I  could  be  happy  anywhere  if  you 


io8  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

were  your  old  natural  self  once  more.  Millie  and  I  can  both 
see  that  struggling  alone  and  brooding  by  yourself  over  your 
troubles  is  not  good  for  you,"  and  her  gentle  but  determined 
purpose  carried  the  day. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  was  then  directed  to  a  somewhat  distant  field, 
where  he  found  Roger,  who  readily  agreed  to  take  him  to  the 
steamboat  landing  in  the  afternoon.  Lifting  his  eyes  from 
his  work  a  few  moments  afterward,  the  young  man  saw  that 
his  visitor,  instead  of  returning  to  the  house,  had  sat  down 
under  a  clump  of  trees  and  had  buried  his  face  in  his  hands. 

;<  There's  a  screw  loose  about  that  man,"  he  muttered. 
"  He's  too  uneven.  Yesterday  at  dinner  he  was  the  most 
perfect  gentleman  ever  I  saw  ;  in  the  afternoon  he  had  a 
fit  of  pompous  hilarity  and  condescension  ;  then  came  ab 
straction,  as  if  his  mind  had  stepped  out  for  a  time  ;  and  now, 
after  twelve  hours  of  sleep,  instead  of  feeling  like  a  lark,  he 
looks  as  though  he  might  attend  his  own  funeral  before  night, 
and  walks  as  if  his  feet  were  lead.  He  mopes  there  under 
the  trees  when  he  has  but  a  few  more  hours  with  his  family. 
If  I  had  such  a  wife  and  such  a  daughter  as  he  has,  I'  d  cut  a 
swath  for  them,  no  matter  what  stood  in  the  way." 

But  Roger's  censure  was  slight  compared  with  that  which 
Mr.  Jocelyn  visited  upon  himself ;  and  in  order  to  under 
stand  his  feelings  and  conduct,  it  will  be  necessary  to  relate 
some  experiences  which  occurred  after  the  departure  of  his 
family  to  the  country.  Throughout  the  entire  winter  he  had 
been  under  a  severe  strain  of  business  anxiety,  and  then  had 
come  the  culminating  scenes  of  failure,  loss  of  income,  and 
enforced  and  unhappy  separation.  His  natural  depression 
had  been  so  increased  by  the  meagre  prospect  of  finding  em 
ployment  which  would  yield  his  family  an  adequate  support, 
that  even  his  increased  and  more  frequent  indulgence  in  his 
morphia  powders  failed  to  give  sufficient  hopefulness  and 
courage,  while  at  the  same  time  they  began  to  produce  some 


VIEWLESS  FETTERS.  109 

serious  disorders  in  his  system.  There  is  a  class  of  diseases 
which  rarely  fails  to  attack  one  whose  system  is  reduced  and 
enfeebled,  and  neuralgia  began  to  bind  across  his  forehead  a 
daily  pressure  of  pain  that  at  last  became  intolerable.  Ordi 
nary  remedies  not  giving  speedy  relief,  his  physician  injected 
into  his  arm  a  few  drops  of  the  solution  of  morphia.  Thus 
far  he  had  never  used  the  drug  in  solution  hypodermically, 
and  he  was  much  surprised  by  the  agreeable  effects  of  a  very 
much  smaller  quantity  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to  use 
on  any  one  occasion,  and  his  morphia  hunger — already  firmly 
established — immediately  suggested  that  the  little  syringe 
might  become  a  far  more  potent  agent  than  the  powders. 
Therefore  he  induced  the  physician  to  give  him  an  order  for 
the  instrument,  and  to  explain  more  fully  the  methods  of  its 
use,  saying  that  attacks  of  neuralgia  were  generally  rather 
obstinate  in  his  case,  and  that  he  had  neither  the  time  nor 
the  means  to  seek  his  services  very  often. 

The  physician's  few  words  of  warning  made  but  slight  im 
pression  upon  the  infatuated  man  at  the  time.  Mr.  Joce- 
lyn  remembered  only  that  he  had  an  intolerable  pain  in 
his  head  and  a  heavy  weight  upon  his  heart.  Many  a 
time  during  the  long  civil  war  he  had  smilingly  led  charges 
wherein  the  chances  of  death  were  greater  than  those  of 
life,  but  neither  then  nor  since  had  he  ever  displayed  any 
great  aptitude  for  quiet  endurance  and  self-control.  Now  every 
day  was  precious,  and  he  felt  he  could  not  give  himself  up  to 
pain  and  patient  waiting  until  the  disease  could  be  conquered 
in  a  slow,  legitimate  way,  when  by  a  wound  no  more  than  a 
pin-prick  he  could  obtain  courage,  happiness,  and  prospects 
illimitable. 

Having-  obtained  the  syringe  and  a  vial  of  the  solution  of 
morphia,  he  injected  into  his  arm  a  much  larger  quantity 
than  the  physician  would  have  dreamed  of  employing.  Not 
only  did  the  unendurable  anguish  pass  away  within  a  few  brief 


HO  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

moments,  but  the  world  was  transfigured  ;  life's  grim  outlook 
became  full  of  the  richest  promise,  and  discouragement  and 
dread  vanished  utterly.  So  far  from  fearing  that  he  could 
not  provide  for  his  family,  he  was  sure  that  he  could  win  for 
them  abundance  and  luxury.  A  dozen  avenues  to  fortune 
opened  before  him,  and  he  felt  that  his  only  task  was  to 
choose,  believing  that  in  some  indefinite  yet  easily  discerned 
way  he  would  achieve  more  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  most  men 
to  accomplish.  Instead  of  a  long,  sleepless  night  like  those 
which  had  preceded,  his  waking  dreams  ended  in  quiet  and 
equally  pleasant  visions — then  oblivion,  which  did  not  pass 
away  until  the  morning  sun  was  shining.  But  with  the  new 
day  came  a  new  access  of  pain  and  gloom,  and  the  aid  of  the 
magic  little  instrument  was  invoked  once  more.  Again 
within  a  few  moments  the  potent  drug  produced  a  tranquil 
elysium  and  a  transformed  world  of  grand  possibilities.  With 
a  vigor  which  seemed  boundless,  and  hopes  which  repeated 
disappointments  could  not  dampen,  he  continued  his  quest 
for  employment  until  in  the  declining  day  his  spirits  and 
energy  ebbed  as  strangely  as  they  had  risen  in  the  morning, 
and  after  another  night  of  dreams  and  stupor  he  awoke  in 
torture.  The  powerful  stimulant  enabled  him  to  repeat  the 
experiences  of  the  previous  day,  and  for  two  or  three  weeks 
he  lived  in  the  fatal  but  fascinating  opium  paradise,  gradually 
increasing  the  amount  of  morphia  that  his  system,  dulled  by 
habit,  demanded.  In  the  mean  time,  by  the  lavish  use  of 
quinine  he  gradually  banished  his  neuralgia  with  its  attendant 
pain. 

It  is  well  known  to  those  familiar  with  the  character  of 
opium  that  its  effects  are  greatly  enhanced  at  first  by  any  de 
cided  change  in  the  method  of  its  use  ;  also  that  its  most 
powerful  and  immediate  influences  can  be  produced  solely  by 
the  hypodermic  needle,  since  by  means  of  it  the  stimulant 
is  introduced  at  once  into  the  system.  When  taken  in 


VIEWLESS  FETTERS.  Ill 

powders,  the  glow,  the  serenity,  and  exaltation  come  on 
more  slowly,  and  more  gradually  pass  away,  causing  alterna 
tions  of  moods  far  less  noticeable  than  those  produced  by 
immediate  injection  of  the  poison.  Therefore  it  was  not  at 
all  strange  that  Mr.  Jocelyn's  family  should  remain  in  com 
plete  ignorance  of  the  habit  which  was  enslaving  him,  or  that 
his  behavior  failed  to  excite  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the 
threatening  influences  at  work.  There  is  no  vice  so  secret  as 
that  of  the  opium  slave's,  none  that  is  in  its  earlier  stages  more 
easily  and  generally  concealed  from  those  who  are  nearest 
and  dearest.  The  changes  produced  in  Mr.  Jocelyn  were 
very  gradual,  and  seeing  him  daily  even  his  loving  wife  did 
not  note  them. 

During  the  period  of  unnatural  exaltation  that  has 
been  described  he  had  accepted  agencies  which  prom 
ised  thousands  if  he  could  sell  millions  of  dollars'  worth 
of  goods,  and  after  the  subtle  morphia  had  infused  itself 
through  his  system  nothing  seemed  easier  ;  but  dreams  are 
not  realities,  and  after  grand  hopes  unfulfilled,  and  futile 
efforts,  he  would  sink  into  a  despondency  from  which  nothing 
could  lift  him  save  the  little  syringe  that  he  carried  hidden 
next  to  his  heart.  As  its  magic  never  failed  him,  he  went  on 
for  a  time,  blind  to  the  consequences.  At  last  he  began  to 
grow  more  alarmed  than  ever  before  at  the  ascendency  of  the 
drug  and  his  dependence  upon  it,  but  when  he  tried  to  dis 
continue  its  use  he  found  that  he  had  been  living  so  long 
under  the  influence  of  a  powerful  stimulant  that  without  it  he 
sank  like  a  stone.  Then  came  the  usual  compromise  of  all 
weak  souls — he  would  gradually  decrease  the  amount  and 
then  the  frequency  of  its  use  ;  but,  as  is  generally  the  case,  he 
put  off  the  beginning  of  sturdy  self-denial  until  the  morrow, 
and  almost  every  day  he  poisoned  his  system  with  that  which 
also  poisoned  and  demoralized  his  soul.  He  dimly  saw  his 
danger,  but  did  not  realize  it.  With  the  fatuity  of  all  self- 


112  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

indulgent  natures  he  thought  the  day  would  come  when, 
with  better  prospects  and  health  renewed,  he  would  throw 
away  the  spell  which  bound  him  and  become  a  free  man. 
but  day  alter  day  passed  and  he  did  not ;  his  appetite 
began  to  flag  and  his  energy  also  ;  he  would  sit  dreaming  for 
hours  when  he  might  have  been  at  work.  At  best  his  agen 
cies  would  give  him  but  a  scanty  revenue,  although  pushed 
with  extraordinary  skill  and  vigor.  As  it  was,  they  yielded 
him  little  more  than  personal  support,  and  he  began  to  en 
tertain  the  hope  that  if  he  could  only  obtain  regular  employ 
ment  he  could  then  resume  his  old  regular  habits.  There 
fore  he  had  agreed  to  accept  a  position  which  was  little  more 
than  a  foothold,  and  yet  if  he  would  go  to  work  with  a  deter 
mined  and  patient  industry  he  might,  by  means  of  it,  win 
more  than  he  had  lost. 

Could  he  do  this  ?  The  Sunday  he  had  just  spent  with 
his  family  had  awakened  him  as  never  before  to  a  sense  of  his 
bondage.  Even  with  the  society  of  those  he  loved  to  enliven 
and  sustain  he  had  felt  that  he  could  not  get  through  the  day 
without  the  help  of  the  stimulant  upon  which  he  had  grown  so 
dependent.  While  at  church  it  was  not  the  clergyman' s  voice 
he  heard,  but  a  low  yet  imperious  and  incessant  cry  for 
opium.  As  he  rode  home,  smiling  upon  his  wife  and  chil 
dren,  and  looking  at  the  beautiful  and  diversified  country, 
between  them  and  the  landscape  he  ever  saw  a  little  brass 
instrument  gauged  at  four  or  five  times  the  amount  that  the 
physician  had  at  first  inserted  in  his  arm.  At  the  dinner  table 
he  had  spoken  courteously  and  well  on  many  subjects,  and 
yet  ever  uppermost  in  his  mind  was  one  constant  thought — 
opium.  The  little  diabolical  thing  itself  seemed  alive  in  his 
pocket,  and  made  its  faint  yet  potent  solicitation  against  his 
heart.  At  last  he  had  muttered,  "  I  will  just  take  a  little  of 
the  cursed  stuff,  and  then  I  must  begin  to  break  myself  in 
dead  earnest." 


VIEWLESS  FETTERS.  113 

The  reader  knows  what  followed.  Moreover,  he  was  led  to 
fear  that  the  alternations  of  moods  caused  by  injections  of 
morphia  would  be  so  great  that  they  could  not  fail  to  excite 
remark.  Although  the  new  day  brought  every  motive  which 
can  influence  a  man,  Mr.  Jocelyn  found  the  path  to  freedom 
so  steep  and  difficult  that  the  ascent  seemed  well-nigh  im 
possible.  His  muscles  were  relaxed,  his  whole  frame  so 
weary  and  limp  that  he  even  dreaded  the  effort  required  to 
return  to  the  house  where  his  family  was  waiting  for  him. 
But  the  physical  oppression  was  nothing  to  that  which  weighed 
upon  his  mind.  The  sense  of  misery  and  discouragement 
was  paralyzing,  and  he  was  fairly  appalled  by  his  lack  of 
energy.  And  yet  he  felt  his  need  of  power  and  resolution  as 
keenly  as  he  realized  his  feebleness.  He  knew  that  he  had 
appeared  unnatural  to  his  wife  and  children,  and  that  while 
they  now  ascribed  his  behavior  to  the  long  strain  he  had  been 
under,  their  loving  and  charitable  blindness  could  not  last  if 
he  often  exhibited  before  them  such  variable  moods  and 
conditions.  Therefore  he  felt  that  he  must  overcome  the 
habit  before  they  were  together  permanently,  for  to  permit 
them  to  discover  his  vile  weakness  in  this  time  of  their  great 
need  would  be  a  mortal  wound  to  his  pride.  All  his  man 
hood  revolted  at  the  bare  thought?  Their  trust,  their  love, 
their  dependence  and  unrepining  courage  in  meeting  poverty 
and  privation  with  him  imposed  the  strongest  and  most 
sacred  of  obligations,  and  his  high  sense  of  honor — which 
hitherto  had  been  his  religion — made  failure  to  meet  these 
obligations  the  most  awful  disaster  that  could  overwhelm  him. 
The  means  of  escaping  from  his  wretchedness  and  dejection 
— from  the  horrible  lassitude  of  body  and  soul — could  be 
grasped  in  a  moment,  and  the  temptation  to  use  them  and 
become  within  a  few  minutes  a  strong,  sanguine,  courageous 
man  was  almost  irresistible  ;  but  he  knew  well  that  such  an 
abrupt  change  from  the  heavy,  dull-eyed  condition  in  which 


H4  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

they  had  seen  him  at  the  breakfast  table  could  not  fail  to 
arouse  suspicion  ;  and  should  they  once  discern  his  crime — 
for  crime  he  now  regarded  it — he  feared  his  self-respect  would 
be  so  destroyed  that  he  would  never  have  the  pride  and 
strength  for  the  struggle  now  clearly  foreseen  ;  therefore,  with 
the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  and  from  the  impulse  of  all 
his  native  and  long-fostered  Southern  pride,  he  resolved  that 
they  must  never  know  his  degradation.  He  must  rally  his 
shattered  forces,  spend  the  few  hours  before  his  departure  with 
his  family  in  a  way  t©  lull  all  fears  and  surmises  ;  then  when 
away  by  himself  he  would  tug  at  his  chain  until  he  broke  it. 
Summoning  the  whole  strength  of  his  will  he  returned  to  the 
house,  and  succeeded  fairly  well. 

Could  he  break  his  chain  ?  The  coming  pages  of  this 
book  will  reveal  his  struggle  and  its  termination.  Alas  !  it 
is  no  fancy  sketch,  but  a  record  of  human  experience  that  is 
becoming  sadly  frequent.  The  hunger  for  opium  had  grown 
upon  Mr.  Jocelyn  by  its  almost  constant  use  for  nearly  two 
years.  During  weeks  of  pain  he  had  almost  lived  upon  the 
drug,  saturating  his  system  with  it.  It  had  come  to  him  like 
an  angel  of  light,  lifting  him  on  buoyant  pinions  out  of  suf 
fering  and  despondency,  but  the  light  was  fading  from  the 
wings  and  brow  of  this  STrong  spirit,  and  it  was  already  seen 
to  be  an  angel  of  darkness. 

At  this  time  Mr.  Jocelyn  might  have  escaped  from  his 
thraldom,  but  would  he  ?  The  world  is  full  of  people  who 
are  proud  and  self-respecting  in  the  extreme,  who  are  hon 
orable  and  virtuous,  good  and  kindly  at  heart,  but  whose 
wills  are  nerveless,  though  they  may  go  safely  through  life 
without  suspecting  this  truth  ;  but  if  they  fall  under  the  in 
fluence  of  an  evil  habit — if  they  pass  under  this  mightiest  and 
darkest  of  all  spells,  opium  hunger — they  may  learn  their 
weakness  in  despair. 

Mr.  Jocelyn,  however,  had  no  thought  of  despair  ;  he  was 


VIEWLESS  FETTERS.  115' 

only  surprised,  humiliated,  and  somewhat  alarmed  ;  he  was 
satisfied  that  he  must  drift  no  longer,  and  in  perfect  sincerity 
resolved  to  make  the  most  of  his  brief  separation  from  his 
family,  hoping  that  with  a  physician's  advice  he  could  speedily 
overcome  his  morbid  craving  and  distressing  need.  He  left 
the  farm-house  with  the  resolution  that  he  would  never  touch 
the  drug  again,  believing  that  before  a  week  expired  the 
horrible  depression,  both  mental  and  physical,  would  so  far 
pass  away  as  to  excite  no  further  suspicion. 

For  an  hour  he  rode  at  Roger' s  side,  rigid,  taciturn,  and 
pale  ;  for  except  when  heated  by  exercise  his  wonted  ruddy 
color  was  passing  away  from  the  effects  of  the  poison.  Roger 
drove  around  to  the  large  hotel,  which  was  not  much  out  of 
their  way,  and  said,  "  Mr.  Jocelyn,  will  you  please  take  the 
lines  a  few  momenta  ?  I  have  an  errand  here,  but  it  won't 
keep  me  long." 

Having  transacted  his  business  he  stood  in  the  office  door 
watching  a  young  man  who  sauntered  toward  him.  The 
stranger  was  almost  as  tall  as  himself,  but  much  slighter. 
While  his  carriage  was  easy  and  graceful,  it  was  marked  by 
an  air  of  lassitude  and  weariness,  and  his  step  lacked  firmness. 
A  heavy  mustache  relieved  his  face  from  effeminacy,  but  his 
large,  dark  eyes  were  dull  and  apathetic.  Suddenly  they 
lighted  up  with  recognition  ;  he  hesitated,  and  then  hastily 
advanced  toward  Mr.  Jocelyn,  but  his  steps  were  speedily 
checked,  for  the  moment  the  gentleman  recognized  him  he 
bowed  very  coldly  and  turned  haughtily  away.  The  young 
man  flushed  deeply,  stood  still  a  moment  in  irresolution,  and 
then  with  a  swift  glance  into  Roger's  interested  face  turned 
and  quickly  disappeared.  Before  Roger  could  resume  his 
place  in  the  wagon  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  came  out  and 
called  him  back  ;  something  had  been  forgotten. 

This  interruption  was  fatal  to  Mr.  Jocelyn' s  good  resolu 
tions.  Vinton  Arnold,  who  had  won  his  daughter' s  affee- 


Il6  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

tion,  but  who  seemingly  had  not  the  manhood  to  be  faithful 
in  her  adversity,  was  the  one  whom  he  had  repulsed,  and  the 
thought  of  his  wealth  and  luxury,  while  he  was  on  his  way 
to  seek  a  home  in  a  tenement  for  his  beautiful  child,  so 
maddened  him  that  he  drove  recklessly  to  an  adjacent  shed, 
which  shielded  him  from  observation,  snatched  out  his  fatal 
syringe,  and  in  a  moment  the  poison  was  diffusing  itself 
through  all  his  system.  He  had  returned  again  before 
Roger,  who  had  been  detained  some  moments,  reappeared, 
but  now  his  heavy  eyes  were  bright  and  fiery,  and  his  tongue 
unloosed. 

' '  Did  you  see  that  young  man  to  whom  I  refused  to 
speak  ?' '  he  asked  as  they  drove  away. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  he's  a  white-livered  scoundrel.  He's  a  type  of 
your  Northern  gentlemen.  A  Southern  man  would  starve 
rather  than  act  so  pusillanimously.  Of  course  I'  m  not  going 
to  talk  of  family  secrets,  or  say  anything  not  befitting  a  high- 
toned  gentleman,  but  I  taught  that  snob  how  a  man  of  honor 
regards  his  cowardice  and  cold-bloodedness.  He  was  one  of 
our  fair-weather  friends,  who  promptly  disappeared  when  the 
sky  clouded.  Here  he  is,  dawdling  around  a  high-priced 
hotel,  while  I'm  on  my  way  to  seek  rooms  in  a  tenement  for 
those  to  whom  he  is  not  worthy  to  speak  ;  but  the  time  shall 
come,  and  speedily,  too,  when  even  on  the  base  plane  of 
money — the  sole  claim  of  his  proud  family  for  consideration 
— we  shall  meet  him  and  scorn  him  as  his  superiors.  I 
have  plans,  business  prospects —  '  and  he  launched  forth 
into  such  a  vague,  wild  statement  of  his  projects  that  Roger 
looked  at  him  in  silent  amazement,  half  doubting  his  sanity. 

In  his  haste  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  not  carefully  gauged  his 
syringe,  and  the  over-amount  of  morphia  thrown  into  his 
system  so  stimulated  him  that  his  words  appeared  exceedingly 
irrational  to  the  young  man,  whose  judgment  was  based  on 


VIEWLESS  FETTERS.  1 17 

unusual  shrewdness  and  common-sense.  He  was  greatly 
puzzled  by  the  sudden  change  in  his  companion.  It  was 
evident  that  he  had  not  been  drinking,  for  his  breath  was 
untainted  and  his  utterance  was  natural.  But  his  face  was 
flushed,  and  he  seemed  possessed  by  a  strange,  unbalanced 
mental  exaltation  which  led  him  to  speak  as  no  sensible  man 
ought  in  any  circumstances,  and  certainly  not  to  a  stranger. 
Roger  therefore  interrupted  him,  saying,  "  I  shall  respect 
your  confidence,  Mr.  Jocelyn,  and  will  never  repeat  what  you 
have  said.  Please  let  me  suggest,  however,  that  it  would  be 
wise  not  to  speak  so  frankly  to  others,  since  they  might  take 
advantage  of  you. ' ' 

"  Please  let  me  assure  you,"  resumed  Mr.  Jocelyn,  with 
the  most  impressive  dignity,  ' '  that  I  am  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  that  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world.  I  can  read 
men  as  you  would  read  a  book.  If  you  were  not  trust 
worthy  I  should  know  it  at  a  glance.  Did  you  not  see  how 
I  treated  that  young  jackanapes  ?  His  wealth  and  elegance 
did  not  impose  upon  me  in  the  least.  You  are  trustworthy. 
You  have  a  large,  aspiring  mind,  and  yet  you  know  your 
station  ;  you  would  not  dream  of  presuming.  What  does 
it  signify  that  we  are  poor  for  the  moment  ?  True  Southern 
blood  is  in  our  veins,  and  I  have  a  dozen  plans  for  securing 
large  wealth.  When  that  day  comes  I  shall  remember  those 
who  basely  turned  their  backs  on  us  in  our  brief  obscurity ;" 
and  thus  he  rambled  on,  while  Roger  listened  coldly  and  in 
silence. 

'  There  is  method  in  his  madness,"  he  said  to  himself  ; 
"  he  is  not  so  daft  but  that  he  hints  broadly  I  must  keep  my 
station  and  not  be  '  presuming. '  His  proud  daughter  hints 
as  much  still  more  plainly.  Well,  we'll  see  whose  dreams 
find  the  larger  fulfilment — his  or  mine. ' ' 

By  the  time  they  reached  the  landing  the  sun  was  low  in 
the  west,  and  his  companion  had  become  comparatively  silent, 


Ii8  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

dreamy,  and  abstracted.  Half  an  hour  later  Roger  went  on 
board  of  the  boat  with  some  solicitude  to  see  how  he  was 
faring.  Mr.  Jocelyn  started  out  of  what  appeared  a  deep 
reverie  as  Roger  addressed  him,  and  said,  after  a  moment's 
thought,  ' '  Please  say  to  my  family  that  you  left  me  well,  and 
safely  on  my  way,"  and  with  a  quiet  and  rather  distant  bow 
he  resumed  his  absorbing  thoughts. 

The  steamer  moved  away,  but  instead  of  returning  directly 
home  Roger  went  back  to  the  hotel.  Even  amid  the  hallu 
cinations  of  opium  the  father  had  too  much  instinctive 
delicacy  to  mention  Mildred' s  name  or  to  make  any  reference 
to  Arnold's  intentions  ;  but  the  quick-witted  fellow  gained 
the  impression  that  the  elegant  young  stranger  had  been  a 
welcome  and  favored  suitor  in  the  past  better  days,  and  he 
had  a  consuming  wish  to  see  and  study  the  kind  of  man  that 
he  surmised  had  been  pleasing  to  Mildred.  As  he  rode 
along,  pity  for  the  girl  took  the  place  ot  resentment.  ' '  Not 
our  plain  little  farm-house,  but  the  fashionable  hotel,  is  the 
place  where  she  would  feel  the  most  at  home, ' '  he  thought. 
"  And  yet  she  is  going  to  a  tenement-house  !  There,  too, 
she'll  stay,  I  fear,  for  all  that  her  father  will  ever  do  for  her. 
If  he's  not  off  his  balance,  I  never  saw  a  man  that  was." 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  119 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS. 

ROGER  sat  out  on  the  dusky  piazza  of  the  hotel,  look 
ing  into  the  large  parlor  through  open  windows 
which  came  to  the  floor,  bent  on  making  the  most  of  such 
glimpses  as  he  could  obtain  of  the  world  to  which  he  felt  that 
Mildred  belonged  by  right.  He  saw  clearly  that  she  would 
appear  well  and  at  home  amid  such  surroundings.  A  young 
and  elegantly  dressed  woman  crossed  the  wide  apartment,  and 
he  muttered,  ' '  Your  carriage  is  very  fine  and  fashionable,  no 
doubt,  but  Miss  Jocelyn  would  have  added  grace  and  nature 
to  your  regulation  gait. ' '  He  watched  the  groups  at  the  card- 
tables  with  a  curious  interest,  and  the  bobbing  heads  of 
gossiping  dowagers  and  matrons  ;  he  compared  the  remark 
able  ' '  make  up,  "as  he  phrased  it,  of  some  of  them  with 
the  unredeemed  plainness  of  his  mother's  Sunday  gown. 
"  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  in  good  taste,"  he 
thought  ' '  Mrs.  Jocelyn  dresses  as  I  intend  my  mother  shall 
some  day."  He  coolly  criticised  a  score  or  more  of  young 
men  and  women  who  were  chatting,  promenading,  flitting 
through  the  open  windows  out  upon  the  piazza  and  back 
again  into  the  light,  as  a  small  stringed  orchestra  struck  into 
a  lively  galop  or  the  latest  waltz.  He  saw  a  general  muster 
ing  of  the  younger  guests,  even  down  to  the  boys  and  girls, 
for  the  Lancers,  and  followed  one  and  another  that  caught  his 
eye  through  the  mazy  intricacies,  making  little  gestures  of 
disgust  at  those  who  seemed  outre  and  peculiar  in  manner  and 
appearance,  and  regarding  with  the  closest  observation  such 


120  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

as  exhibited  a  happy  mean  between  a  certain  rusticity  and 
awkwardness  with  which  he  was  well  acquainted,  and  a  con 
ventional  artificiality  which  was  to  him  all  the  more  unnatural 
and  absurd  because  his  perception  was  not  dulled  by 
familiarity  with  society's  passing  whims. 

The  young  stranger  whom  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  repulsed,  and 
who  was  the  real  object  of  his  quest,  did  not  appear  among 
the  pleasure-seekers,  nor  could  he  discover  him  on  the  piazza, 
in  the  billiard-room,  or  in  other  places  of  resort.  At  last  in 
much  disappointment  he  returned  to  his  seat,  from  which  he 
commanded  a  view  of  the  parlor  ;  and  scarcely  had  he  done 
so  before  the  one  he  sought  mounted  the  steps  near  him  as  if 
returning  from  a  stroll  in  the  hotel  grounds,  threw  away  a 
cigar,  and  entered  an  open  window  with  the  same  graceful, 
listless  saunter  witnessed  in  the  afternoon.  He  crossed  the 
wide  apartment  with  as  much  ease  and  nonchalance  as  if  it 
had  been  empty,  and  sat  down  on  a  sofa  by  a  somewhat  stout 
and  very  elegantly  apparelled  gentlewoman. 

Roger  never  thought  of  accounting  for  the  intensity  of  his 
interest  in  this  stranger — the  young  rarely  analyze  their 
feelings — but,  obedient  to  an  impulse  to  learn  this  man's 
power  to  win  the  favor  of  one  so  unapproachable  by  himself, 
he  scanned  with  keenest  scrutiny  everything  in  his  appearance 
and  manner,  and  sought  eagerly  to  gauge  his  character. 

He  felt  instinctively  that  the  ' '  cold-blooded  snob, ' '  as  Mr. 
Jocelyn  had  characterized  him,  was  of  the  very  opposite  type 
to  his  own.  His  graceful  saunter,  which,  nevertheless, 
possessed  a  certain  quiet  dignity,  suggested  a  burdensome 
leisure  and  an  utter  lack  ©f  purpose  to  go  anywhere  or  do 
anything.  He  dropped  on  the  sofa  rather  than  sat  down. 
The  lady  at  his  side  spoke  rather  decidedly  to  him,  and  he 
answered  briefly  without  even  looking  at  her.  By  and  by  she 
spoke  again,  more  energetically  ;  he  then  slowly  arose,  ap 
proached  a- young  woman  sitting  near,  who  in  response  to 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  12 1 

something  he  said  sprang  up  with  alacrity,  and  they  glided 
away  in  the  waltz  with  an  ease  and  grace  scarcely  equalled  by 
the  others  upon  the  floor.  After  a  few  moments  they  circled 
around  very  near  Roger's  post  of  observation,  and  he  was 
able  to  scan  both  the  features  and  expression  of  the  man 
•whom  he  felt  inclined  to  hate.  But  he  was  disarmed  and 
perplexed,  for  the  stranger  showed  no  more  pleasure  or  ani 
mation  than  would  a  fallen  leaf  that  was  swept  here  and  there 
by  varying  eddies  of  wind.  He  kept  time  and  step  with  per 
fect  accuracy,  but  evidently  from  such  complete  familiarity 
with  the  form  that  he  gave  it  not  a  thought.  He  danced  as 
easily  as  a  bird  flies,  avoiding  the  others  without  appearing 
to  notice  them.  No  color  came  from  the  exercise,  no  light 
kindled  in  his  face.  His  expression  was  notl/lase  or  cynical, 
but  weary  and  dejected  ;  the  melancholy  in  his  large  brown 
eyes  was  all  the  more  striking  from  contrast  with  the  music, 
the  lighted  room,  and  an  amusement  suggesting  gayety. 
Pale,  utterly  unresponsive  to  the  brilliant  and  mirthful  scenes, 
he  glided  ghost-like  here  and  there,  and  before  very  long 
seated  his  companion  by  the  elderly  woman  whose  urgency 
had  led  to  his  automaton-like  performance.  Then  with  a 
slight  bow  he  passed  through  a  window  near  and  disappeared. 
The  two  ladies  spoke  together  for  a  few  moments  and 
seemed  annoyed,  and  Roger  now  noted  such  a  resemblance 
between  them  as  to  suggest  that  they  were  mother  and 
daughter. 

He  had  seen  sufficient  to  satisfy  him,  and  he  went  away 
muttering,  "  There  isn't  enough  of  him  to  hate  ;  he's  but 
the  shadow  of  a  man.  She  fancy  him  !  I  couldn't  have 
believed  it ;  I  can't  account  for  it,  unless  he's  very  gifted  in 
mind  or  very  different  when  with  her.  This  must  be  true, 
and  he  would  be  a  mummy  indeed  if  she  couldn't  wake  him 
up." 

Roger  rode  home,  however,  ill  at  ease.     "  He  hasn't  for- 


122  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

gotten  her  if  he  has  given  her  up  on  account  of  her  poverty," 
he  thought  "  He  could  see  as  well  as  I  that  there  was  no 
one  there  who  could  compare  with  her  ;  but  he  mopes  in 
stead  of  trying  to  win  her.  If  he  can  dance,  why  can't  he 
work  ?  I've  no  reason  to  complain,  however,  and  I  thank 
my  stars  that  I  have  muscle  and  a  will.  In  the  mean  time  I 
shall  come  up  here  and  study  your  tricks  of  manner,  my  ele 
gant  nonentity.  I  believe  in  force.  Force  moves  the  world 
and  carries  a  man  through  it ;  but  I  now  see  that  it  should  be 
well-managed  and  well-mannered  force.  Miss  Jocelyn  com 
pares  me  with  you,  and  I  seem  to  her  uncouth,  unfinished, 
and  crude  in  the  extreme.  Litheness  and  grace  need  not 
take  an  atom  from  my  strength,  and  the  time  shall  come 
when  I  will  not  fear  comparisons.  I'll  win  her  yet  with  your 
own  weapons." 

Roger's  dreams  proved  that  his  sympathies  with  the  mel 
ancholy  stranger  were  not  very  deep,  and  that  his  idea  of 
the  survival  of  the  fittest  was  the  survival  of  the  strongest. 
His  human  nature  at  that  time  was  of  the  old  Saxon  type, 
that  went  directly  for  what  it  wanted,  without  much  thought 
or  sentiment  for  those  weak  enough  to  lose. 

Although  it  was  rather  late  before  he  reached  home,  he 
found  his  mother,  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  and  Mildred  waiting  for  him 
in  the  sitting-room. 

"  What  kept  you  so  ?"  Mrs.  Atwood  exclaimed. 

"  I  stopped  a  while  at  the  hotel  on  my  return,"  he  replied. 

' '  Did  my  husband  send  any  message  ?' '  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
asked,  with  a  solicitude  she  could  not  disguise. 

"  He  told  me  to  say  that  I  had  left  him  well,  and  safely  on 
his  way  to  the  city. ' ' 

' '  Did — did  he  seem  well  when  you  left  him  ?' '  the  anxious 
wife  persisted. 

' '  Quite  as  well  as  he  did  yesterday,  I  think, ' '  was  the  reply. 

1 '  Mr.  Atwood, ' '  said  Mildred,  in  a  tone  that  startled  him 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  123 

a  little,  and  he  saw  she  was  looking  at  him  as  if  she  would 
read  his  thoughts,  ' '  did  my  father  truly  appear  well  when 
you  parted  from  him  ?' ' 

Roger's  eyes  fell  before  hers,  but  he  replied  firmly,  "  I  left 
him  sitting  quietly  on  the  steamboat's  deck,  and  when  I 
asked  him  if  he  had  any  message  for  his  family,  he  said  the 
words  I  have  just  repeated.  He  seemed  naturally  depressed 
at  leaving  you  all.  If  he  were  not  well  he  did  not  say  any 
thing  about  it ;"  and  with  a  bow  he  passed  up  to  his  room. 

"  Mother,"  said  Mildred,  when  they  were  alone,  "  was  it 
mere  diffidence,  or  why  was  it,  that  he  could  not  look  me  in 
the  eyes  ?  I  wonder  if  he  is  concealing  anything.  It  was 
in  the  afternoon  and  evening  that  papa  was  unlike  himself 
yesterday.  I  wish  I  really  knew  whether  or  not  that  young 
man  is  hiding  anything,  for  I  have  an  impression  that  he  is." 

' '  Oh,  it  was  diffidence,  Millie.  He  would  have  no  motive 
in  hiding  the  truth  from  us.  I  can  see  that  he  is  both  fasci 
nated  by  you  and  afraid  of  you — poor  fellow  !" 

"  A  few  weeks  in  the  cornfield  and  a  few  smiles  from  the 
girls  hereabouts  will  banish  all  his  nonsense  concerning  me. 
I  don' t  give  him  a  thought  except  that  his  absurd  feelings 
annoy  me.  Oh,  mamma,  you  understand  me.  What  he 
would  like  to  offer  is  such  a  grotesque  parody  on  that  which 
I  hoped  for,  on  what  I  imagined  I  possessed,  that  it  makes 
me  sick.  Oh,  oh  !"  she  sobbed,  "  I  must  give  it  all  up.  Mr. 
Arnold  acts  as  if  I  were  dead  ;  and  practically  I  am  to  him, 
although  he  may  sigh  and  mope  a  little,  perhaps.  There, 
I'm  wronging  him  ;  I  know  I  wrong  him.  How  can  I  forget 
his  white,  deathlike  face  and  look  of  mortal  pain.  Oh  that 
he  had  this  young  fellow's  muscle  and  courage  !  I  do  not 
care  for  his  money  ;  I  would  be  content  with  him  in  one 
bare  room.  But  as  it  is  I  fear,  I  fear  ;' '  and  the  poor  child 
buried  her  face  in  her  mother's  lap,  and  cried  away  some  of 
her  weight  of  foreboding. 


124  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Millie,  darling,"  faltered  her  mother,  "  God  knows  I'd 
shield  your  heart  with  my  own  if  I  could,  but  I  don't  know 
how  to  help  you.  You  are  too  much  like  me.  Your  love 
is  your  life,  and  you  can't  stop  loving  just  because  it  would 
be  wise  and  thrifty  to  do  so.  I  think  of  you  almost  as  much 
as  I  do  of  Martin,  and  I  daily  pray  the  merciful  Saviour,  who 
was  '  tempted  in  all  points  like  as  we  are,'  to  sustain  and 
comfort  you.  I  don' t  see  how  I  can  help  you  in  any  other 
way,  for  my  own  heart  shows  me  just  how  you  suffer." 

"  There,  little  mother,"  said  Mildred,  raising  her  head 
and  wiping  her  eyes,  "  I've  had  my  cry,  and  feel  the  better 
for  it  I'm  going  to  help  you  and  papa  and  be  brave.  I'm 
glad  I'm  like  you.  I'm  glad  I'm  a  true  Southern  girl,  and 
that  I  can  love  as  you  loved  ;  and  I  would  despise  myself  if 
I  could  invest  my  heart  and  reinvest  it  like  so  much  stock. 
Such  a  woman  is  cold-blooded  and  unnatural,  and  you  are 
the  dearest  little  mother  and  wife  that  ever  breathed." 

"  Oh,  Millie,  Millie,  if  I  had  only  foreseen  and  guarded 
against  this  evil  day  !" 

"Come,  dear  mamma,  don't  always  be  blaming  yourself 
for  what  you  did  not  foresee.  You  are  eager  to  do  your 
best  now,  and  that  is  all  God  or  man  can  ask  of  us.  These 
clouds  will  pass  away  some  time,  and  then  the  sunshine  will 
be  all  the  brighter. ' ' 

The  next  few  days  of  waiting  and  uncertainty  were  a  severer 
ordeal  to  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  than  ever.  Mr.  Jocelyn, 
bent  on  gaining  time,  kept  putting  them  off.  His  new  duties 
upon  which  he  had  entered,  he  wrote,  left  him  only  the  even 
ing  hours  for  his  quest  of  rooms,  and  he  had  not  succeeded 
in  finding  any  that  were  suitable.  Thus  they  expected  some 
thing  definite  by  every  mail,  but  each  day  brought  renewed 
disappointment.  At  last  Mildred  wrote  that  she  would  come 
down  herself  if  he  did  not  decide  upon  something  at  once. 

The  morning  after  this  letter  was  dispatched  the  young 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  125 

girl  took  her  work  out  under  some  wide-boughed  hemlocks 
that  stood  beside  the  quiet  country  road,  along  which  a  farmer 
occasionally  jogged  to  the  village  beyond,  but  which  at  that 
hour  was  usually  quite  deserted.  Fred  and  Minnie  were  with 
her,  and  amused  themselves  by  building  little  log  huts  with 
the  dry  sticks  thickly  scattered  around. 

To  Roger,  who  was  cradling  oats  in  an  adjacent  field, 
they  made  a  picture  which  would  always  repeat  itself  when 
ever  he  passed  that  clump  of  hemlocks  ;  and,  as  he  cut  his  way 
down  the  long  slope  toward  them,  under  the  midsummer 
sun,  he  paused  a  second  alter  each  stroke  to  look  with 
wistful  gaze  at  one  now  rarely  absent  from  his  mental  vision. 
She  was  too  sad  and  preoccupied  to  give  him  a  thought,  or 
even  to  note  who  the  reaper  was.  From  her  shady  retreat 
she  could  see  him  and  other  men  at  work  here  and  there,  and 
she  only  envied  their  definite  and  fairly  rewarded  toil,  and 
their  simple  yet  assured  home-life,  while  she  was  working  so 
blindly,  and  facing,  in  the  mean  time,  a  world  of  uncertainty. 
Roger  had  been  very  unobtrusive  since  her  father's  departure, 
and  she  half  consciously  gave  him  credit  for  this  when  she 
thought  about  him  at  all,  which  was  but  seldom.  He  had 
imagined  that  she  had  grown  less  distant  and  reserved,  and 
once  or  twice,  when  he  had  shown  some  little  kindness  to  the 
children,  she  had  smiled  upon  him.  He  was  a  hunter  of  no 
mean  repute  in  that  region,  and  was  famous  for  his  skill  in 
following  shy  and  scarce  game.  He  had  resolved  to  bring 
the  principles  of  his  woodcraft  to  bear  upon  Mildred,  and  to 
make  his  future  approaches  so  cautiously  as  not  to  alarm  her 
in  the  least ;  therefore  he  won  the  children's  favor  more 
thoroughly  than  ever,  but  not  in  an  officious  way.  He  found 
Belle  moping  the  evening  after  her  father' s  departure,  and  he 
gave  her  a  swift  drive  in  his  buggy,  which  little  attention 
completely  disarmed  the  warm-hearted  girl  and  became  the 
basis  of  a  fast-ripening  frienasmp 


126  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

1 '  You  need  not  put  on  such  distant  airs, ' '  she  had  said  to 
Mildred  ;  "  he  never  mentions  your  name  any  more."  But 
when  he  asked  Mrs.  Jocelyn  to  take  a  drive  with  him  she  had 
declined  very  kindly,  for  she  feared  that  he  might  speak  to 
her  of  her  daughter  in  an  embarrassing  way.  Over  Belle, 
Mildred  had  little  control  in  such  matters,  but  as  far  as  she 
and  her  mother  were  concerned  she  determined  that  he  should 
have  no  encouragement  whatever  ;  for,  although  he  made  no 
further  efforts  either  to  shun  or  obtain  her  society,  and  had 
become  quite  as  reserved  as  herself,  he  unconsciously,  yet 
very  clearly,  revealed  his  state  of  mind  to  her  womanly  in 
tuition. 

"  There  is  one  thing  queer  about  Roger  Atwood,"  said 
Belle,  joining  her  sister  under  the  hemlocks  ;  "he  now 
scarcely  ever  speaks  of  himself.  I  suppose  he  thinks  I'd  be 
silly  enough  to  go  and  tell  everything  as  you  did." 

<(  What  do  you  talk  about  then  ?"  asked  Mildred,  with  a 
half  smile. 

' '  Oh,  you  are  a  little  curious,  are  you  ?  perhaps  a  little 
jealous,  too,  that  he  was  so  very  easily  cured  of  his  admiration 
for  you.  If  it  were  any  secret,  I  wouldn't  tell  you.  We 
talk  about  what  we  see,  and  it  seems  to  me  he  sees  every 
thing.  If  a  bird  flies  across  the  road  he  will  point  out  its 
peculiarities,  and  he  knows  so  much  about  the  trees  and 
bushes  and  wild  flowers  and  the  little  creatures  in  the  woods, 
how  they  live,  and  all  that.  He  says  a  man's  a  fool  that 
doesn't  see  all  that's  going  on  around  him.  Sometimes  he 
makes  me  ache  from  laughing  over  his  funny  descriptions  of 
the  queer  characters  that  live  about  here.  But  what  interests 
me  most  is  his  accounts  of  the  people  at  the  hotel.  Ohr  I 
do  wish  mother  would  let  me  go  there  with  him  some  even 
ing  !  He  is  there  nearly  every  night,  and  it's  as  good  as 
a  play  to  hear  him  take  off  the  affected,  snobbish  ones.  He 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  127 

has  caught  the  English  drawl  and  the  yeh  know '  of  some 
young  fellows  to  perfection." 

"  He  is  a  queer  fellow,"  mused  Mildred.  "  I  wonder 
what  he  goes  there  for  ?" 

"  Oh,  Roger  Atwood  is  no  fool,  I  can  tell  you.  He 
knows  country  society  to  perfection,  and  he  would  not  be 
long  in  understanding  Fifth  Avenue  noodledom  just  as  well. 
He  detects  sham  people  and  sham  ways  as  quickly  as  you 
could,  and  delights  in  ridiculing  them.  He  says  there's  a 
ghost  of  a  man  up  there  which  interests  him  exceedingly,  but 
that  it  is  such  an  extremely  well-behaved,  good-mannered 
ghost  that  it  is  tolerated  without  remark,  and  that  is  all  he 
will  say  about  it,  although  I  have  often  questioned  him.  I 
can' t  think  who  or  what  he  means. ' ' 

Mildred  looked  up  with  a  sudden  access  of  interest,  and 
then  became  silent  and  abstracted. 

"  Since  the  children  are  quiet  here,"  continued  Belle,  "  I'll 
go  back  to  the  house  and  finish  a  story  in  which  the  hero 
and  heroine  are  sentimental  geese  and  blind  as  bats.  They 
misunderstand  each  other  so  foolishly  that  I'd  like  to  bob 
their  empty  heads  together,"  and  away  she  went,  humming 
a  gay  song,  with  as  little  thought  for  the  morrow  as  the  birds 
in  the  fields  around  her. 

While  Roger  paused  a  moment  to  wipe  the  perspiration 
from  his  brow,  the  rustling  of  the  grain  ceased,  and  he  heard 
the  footfalls  of  a  horse  in  the  adjacent  road.  With  a  start  he 
saw  riding  by  the  stranger  who  had  been  the  object  of  his 
continued  scrutiny  at  the  hotel.  The  young  man  restrained 
to  a  walk  the  rather  restless  horse  he  bestrode,  and  seemed 
musing  deeply  under  the  shadow  of  a  broad-brimmed  Panama 
hat.  He  took  no  notice  of  Roger,  and  passing  slowly  on  en 
tered  the  shadow  of  the  hemlocks,  when  an  exclamation 
caused  him  to  raise  his  head.  A  second  later  he  sprang  from 
his  horse,  threw  the  bridle  over  the  limb  of  a  tree,  and  seized 


128  WITHO  UT  A  HOME, 

Mildred's  hand  with  an  eagerness  which  proved  that  she  had 
indeed  the  power  to  ' '  wake  him  up. ' ' 

Roger  was  too  distant  to  see  just  how  she  greeted  her  un 
looked-for  friend  of  other  days,  but  thought  she  appeared  so 
startled  that  she  leaned  against  a  tree  for  support.  He  saw, 
however,  that  the  ' '  ghost  of  a  man' '  was  now  flesh  and 
blood  in  his  earnestness,  and  that  he  retained  her  hand  in 
both  of  his  own  while  speaking  rapidly.  Before  very  long, 
however,  the  horse  became  so  impatient  that  he  sud 
denly  jerked  his  bridle  loose,  wheeled,  and  came  galloping 
up  the  road  toward  Roger,  who,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
cleared  the  low  stone  wall  at  a  bound  and  stood  in  the  road 
awaiting  him.  Mildred's  companion  made  a  gesture  of  an 
noyance,  and  then  said,  with  a  shrug,  ' '  Let  the  beast  go. 
I'm  well  content  to  remain  here."  When  they  saw  Roger's 
purpose,  however,  they  stood  watching  for  the  outcome  of 
his  effort 

As  Arnold — for  he  it  was — saw  the  horse,  with  broken  and 
flying  reins,  thundering  apparently  right  upon  the  motionless 
form  of  a  man,  he  exclaimed,  "  By  Jove  !  but  that's  a  brave 
fellow." 

The  vicious  brute  soon  seemed  so  nearly  upon  the  rash 
youth  that  Mildred  gave  a  slight  scream  of  terror,  but  a  sec 
ond  later  she  saw  him  spring  lightly  aside,  catch  one  of  the 
flying  reins,  hold  on  for  a  few  yards,  half  dragged,  half  run 
ning,  and  then  the  animal  yielded  to  a  master.  A  cloud  of 
dust  obscured  them  momentarily  ;  then  the  country-bred 
athlete  vaulted  lightly  into  the  saddle  and  came  trotting 
sharply  toward  them,  riding  like  a  centaur.  She  was  enraged 
at  herself  that  her  face  should  grow  scarlet  under  his  brief 
glance  from  one  to  the  other,  but  without  a  word  he  sprang 
lightly  down  and  began  to  fasten  the  horse  securely  to  a  tree 
— an  act  scarcely  necessary,  for  the  animal  appeared  com 
pletely  subdued. 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  129 

1 '  By  Jove  !  my  man,  that  was  neatly  done, ' '  said  Arnold. 
41  Here's  a  bank-note  for  your  trouble." 

"  The  fact  that  I've  caught  your  horse  does  not  prove  me 
a  hostler, ' '  Roger  replied  brusquely,  without  looking  at  the 
speaker. 

Arnold  now  recognized  the  young  man  whom  he  had  seen 
with  Mr.  Jocelyn,  and  also  at  the  hotel  several  times  subse 
quently.  He  had  learned  his  name,  and  therefore  began, 
"  Oh,  I  beg  pardon  ;  this  is  Mr.  Atwood  ;"  but  before  he 
could  say  more  a  covered  barouche  came  rapidly  down  the 
hill  from  the  opposite  direction,  turned  with  the  angle  of  the 
road,  and  passed  into  the  shade  of  the  hemlocks.  Arnold  had 
become  very  pale  the  moment  he  saw  it,  and  in  its  occupant 
Roger  recognized  the  woman  whom  he  had  seen  at  the  hotel, 
and  whom  he  had  learned  to  be  the  mother  of  the  listless 
dancer.  A  brief  glance  showed  him  that  Mildred  knew  her 
also.  The  lady  sharply  ordered  her  coachman  to  stop,  and 
after  a  brief  but  freezing  look  into  Mildred's  hot  face  she 
said,  in  a  meaning  tone,  "  Vinton,  I  will  esteem  it  a  favor  if 
you  will  accompany  me  on  my  drive." 

"  I  will  join  you  presently,"  he  said  irresolutely. 

"  I  will  wait  politely  then  until  you  have  concluded  your 
interview,"  the  gentlewoman  remarked  coldly,  leaning  back 
in  her  carriage. 

Hei  look,  tone,  and  action  stung  Mildred  to  the  very 
quick.  Gentle  and  retiring  usually,  she  was  capable  of  a  very 
decided  and  even  an  aggressive  course  under  great  provoca 
tion.  For  a  moment  her  warm  Southern  blood  boiled  at 
Mrs.  Arnold's  implication  that  she  was  so  eager  to  capture 
her  wealthy  son  that  it  was  not  prudent  to  leave  them  alone 
together  a  moment.  With  decision  and  the  dignity  of  con 
scious  innocence  she  said,  "  Good-morning,  Mr.  Arnold  ;" 
then  taking  little  Minnie's  hand  and  calling  Fred  she  led  the 
way  toward  the  house.  It  happened  that  the  only  path  of 


130  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

egress  led  her  by  the  carriage,  and  the  manner  in  which  its 
occupant  ignored  her  presence  was  so  intolerable  in  its  injus 
tice  that  she  paused,  and,  fixing  her  clear,  indignant  eyes 
on  the  flushed,  proud  face  before  her,  asked,  in  tones  never 
forgotten  by  those  who  heard  them,  ' '  Mrs.  Arnold,  wherein 
have  I  wronged  you  or  yours  ?' ' 

The  lady  was  silent  and  a  little  embarrassed. 

"  I  know,  and  you  might  know, "  Mildred  continued,  "  if 
you  chose,  that  you  cannot  charge  me  with  one  unwomanly 
act,  but  your  look  and  manner  toward  me  are  both  un 
womanly  and  unchristian.  You  insult  me  in  my  poverty  and 
misfortune.  Without  the  shadow  of  right  or  reason,  you 
cruelly  wound  one  who  was  wounded  already ;' '  and  she 
was  about  to  pass  on. 

"  Mother,  as  you  are  a  woman,  do  not  let  her  go  without 
a  word  of  respect  and  kindness,"  cried  her  son,  in  a  hoarse, 
stifled  voice. 

"  Miss  Jocelyn,"  began  Mrs.  Arnold  in  a  constrained  tone, 
"  I  mean  you  no  disrespect  Nevertheless — " 

"Nevertheless!"  exclaimed  Arnold,  wrought  to  frenzy. 
' '  Great  God  !  are  you  going  to  qualify  that  grudging  sen 
tence  ?' '  He  struck  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  reeled,  and  fell 
prone  upon  the  earth.  In  a  moment  Mildred  knelt  beside 
him,  and  Roger  saw  that  she  loved  him  with  her  whole 
strong,  womanly  soul. 

"  Bring  water,  bring  brandy  ;  mother  will  give  it  to  you," 
she  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  and  he  dashed  off  to  obey. 

Mrs.  Arnold  hastily  descended  from  the  carriage  and  felt 
her  son's  pulse  with  much  solicitude.  "  He  has  only 
fainted,"  she  said.  "  He  is  apt  to  have  such  attacks  when 
overwrought.  It's  a  part  of  his  disease.  Miss  Jocelyn,  you 
see  he  is  a  reed  that  must  be  supported,  not  leaned  upon, ' ' 
she  added,  looking  straight  into  the  young  girl's  troubled 
eyes.  ' '  I  mean  you  kindness  as  truly  as  I  mean  kindness  to 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  131 

him.  He  will  soon  be  better.  He  has  often  been  in  this 
condition  ever  since  he  was  a  child.  With  this  knowledge 
you  will  understand  me  better.  Thomas" — to  the  coach 
man — "  lift  him  into  the  carriage.  He  will  soon  revive," 
she  continued  to  Mildred,  "  and  at  the  hotel  he  shall  have 
the  best  of  care.  Believe  me,  I  feel  for  you  both,  but  I 
know  what  is  right  and  best." 

The  coachman  did  as  he  was  directed,  and  they  drove 
rapidly  away. 

Mildred  put  her  hand  to  her  side,  and  then,  with  pale  and 
downcast  face,  led  the  wondering  children  toward  the  house. 
She  soon  met  Roger  returning,  and  running  like  a  deer. 

"  They  have  taken  him  away,"  she  said  briefly,  without 
looking  up.  "  Please  care  for  his  horse  and  accept  my 
thanks, ' '  and  then  she  hastened  to  her  room  and  did  not  ap 
pear  again  that  day. 

He  complied  with  her  request,  then  went  back  to  his 
work,  and  the  grain  fell  as  if  the  reaper  were  Death  himself. 

Mrs.  Arnold's  course  was  not  so  harsh  and  rude  as  it 
seemed,  and  can  readily  be  explained  on  the  theory  by  which 
she  governed  her  feelings  and  actions  toward  her  son.  An 
obscure  weakness  in  the  functions  of  his  heart  had  rendered 
him  subject  to  fainting  turns  from  early  childhood.  Phy- 
s'cians  had  always  cautioned  against  over-exertion  and  over- 
excitement  of  any  kind  ;  therefore  he  had  not  been  sent  to 
school  like  the  other  children,  or  permitted  to  indulge  in 
the  sports  natural  to  his  age.  Having  been  constantly  cau 
tioned,  curbed,  and  repressed,  he  grew  into  a  timid,  self-dis 
trustful,  irresolute  man,  and  yet  was  keenly  sensible  of  the 
defects  that  separated  him  from  other  men.  No  one  ever 
longed  for  independence  more  earnestly  than  he  ;  few  were 
less  able  to  achieve  it.  His  mother,  having  shielded  him  so 
many  years  from  himself  as  well  as  from  adverse  influences 
from  without,  had  formed  the  habit  of  surveillance.  Exag- 


>3*  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

gerating  his  weakness  and  dependence,  his  unfitness  to  com 
pete  with  other  men  in  active  pursuits,  she  had  almost 
ignored  his  manhood.  The  rest  of  the  family  naturally  took 
their  tone  from  her,  regarding  him  as  an  invalid,  and  treating 
him  as  one.  Chafing  with  secret  and  increasing  bitterness 
over  his  misfortune  and  anomalous  position,  he  grew  more 
and  more  silent  and  reserved,  dwelling  apart  in  a  world 
created  from  a  literature  that  was  not  of  the  best  or  most 
wholesome  character.  As  long  as  he  lived  a  quiet,  monoto 
nous  life  that  accorded  with  the  caution  enjoined  by  physi 
cians,  he  gave  his  mother  little  solicitude,  for  the  woman  of 
the  world,  versed  in  all  the  proprieties  of  her  station,  had  no 
comprehension  of  the  sensitive  spirit  that  had  been  repressed 
equally  with  his  physical  nature.  That  he  should  become 
cold  toward  her,  and  cynical  toward  her  world  of  wealth  and 
fashion,  was  to  her  but  a  proof  that  his  character  was  de 
fective  also,  and  led  to  the  fear  that  his  "absurd  notions" 
might  occasion  trouble.  His  intimacy  with  the  Jocelyns 
threatened  to  justify  her  forebodings,  and,  while  knowing 
nothing  of  Mildred  personally,  she  was  naturally  inclined  to 
the  belief  that  she,  like  many  others,  would  be  glad  to  escape 
poverty  by  allying  herself  to  an  old  and  wealthy  family,  and 
she  regarded  her  son  as  weak  enough  to  become  a  ready  vic 
tim.  Nevertheless  he  was  of  age,  and  if  he  should  enter  into  a 
formal  engagement  it  might  be  no  easy  matter  to  break  it  or 
escape  the  consequences.  Therefore  she  determined  at  all 
hazards  to  prevent  such  a  consummation,  and  thus  far  had 
succeeded.  She  was  greatly  angered  that,  in  spite  of  her  pre 
cautions  and  injunctions,  he  had  again  met  Mildred,  and  she 
resolved  to  end  the  interview  at  once,  even  at  the  cost  of 
being  thought  rude  and  harsh,  for  if  left  to  themselves  that 
summer  day  they  might  realize  all  her  fears.  At  the  same 
time  she  proposed  to  manifest  her  disapproval  so  decidedly 
that  if  the  young  woman  still  sought  to  enter  her  family,  it 


A  SCENE  BENEATH  THE  HEMLOCKS.  133 

would  be  by  a  sort  of  violence  ;  and  she  also  was  not  un 
mindful  of  the  fact  that,  with  the  exception  of  an  apparent 
laborer  and  her  coachman,  only  the  parties  interested  were 
the  witnesses  of  her  tactics.  Therefore  she  had  looked  at 
Mildred  as  coldly  and  haughtily  as  only  a  proud  woman  can, 
with  the  result  already  narrated.  Although  compelled  to 
admit  that  the  girl  was  not  what  she  had  imagined  her  to  be, 
she  was  none  the  less  bent  on  preventing  further  complica 
tions,  and  resolved  to  take  her  son  elsewhere  as  soon  as  he 
had  sufficiently  recovered. 

The  next  morning  Mildred  left  her  seclusion,  and  her 
aspect  was  pale  and  resolute,  but  no  reference  was  made  to 
the  events  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  those  aware  of  them. 
Even  the  children  and  Belle  had  been  so  cautioned  that  they 
were  reticent  In  the  evening,  however,  as  Roger  was  raking 
the  flower-beds  over  to  prevent  the  weeds  from  starting,  Mil 
dred  came  out,  and  joining  him  said,  a  little  bitterly,  "  Well, 
what  did  your  microscopic  vision  reveal  to  you  yesterday 
morning?" 

' '  A  brave,  proud  girl,  for  whom  I  have  the  deepest  re 
spect,  ' '  he  replied,  looking  directly  into  her  eyes. 

"Was  that  all?" 

"  No,  indeed." 

"  Well,  what  else?"  she  persisted,  in  a  tone  quite  unlike 
her  usual  accent 

"  I  saw  the  merest  shadow  of  a  man  and  the  ghost  of  a 
woman  who  must  weigh  nearly  two  hundred. ' ' 

She  flushed  hotly  as  she  said,  "  You  pride  yourself  on 
your  keen  perceptions,  but  the  truth  is  you  are  blind, ' '  and 
she  was  turning  angrily  away  when  he  answered,  "  Time  will 
show  how  blind  I  am, ' '  and  then  he  went  on  quietly  with 
his  work. 

"  Oh,  how  I  detest  that  man  !"  she  muttered,  as  she  went 
up  to  her  favorite  haunt  on  the  hilltop  looking  toward  the 


134  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

south.  "  Why  did  he,  of  all  others,  have  to  be  present  with 
his  prying  eyes  at  the  odious  scene  ?  He  must  know  now 
how  I  feel  toward  Vinton  Arnold,  and  yet  he  has  so  little 
sense  and  delicacy  that  he  expresses  contempt  for  him  to  my 
face.  Brute  strength  may  be  his  ideal  of  manhood,  but  it's 
not  mine  ;  and  he  knows  so  little  of  women  that  he  thinks  I 
ought  to  despise  one  who  is  simply  unfortunate,  and  through 
no  fault  of  his  own.  Poor,  poor  Vinton  !  Brief  as  were  the 
moments  before  we  were  interrupted,  he  had  time  to  assure 
me  that  life  had  become  a  burden  because  of  our  separation, 
and  yet  he  said  that  he  had  no  right  to  see  me,  no  right  to 
send  me  a  line,  no  right  to  add  his  weakness  to  my  other 
misfortunes.  Time  shall  at  least  show  one  thing — that  I  can 
be  patient  and  true.  That  proud,  cold  woman  has  no  con 
trol  over  me,  and  as  long  as  he  is  faithful  I  shall  be." 


THE   OLD  MANSION;  135 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE     OLD     MANSION. 

MILDRED'S  letter  to  her  father  brought  a  request  that 
she  should  join  him  at  once  and  choose  between  two 
sets  of  rooms,  of  which  he  had  the  refusal.  She  insisted  upon 
going,  for  she  was  eager  to  leave  a  place  that  had  become 
hateful  to  her.  She  greatly  wished  to  hear  of  Arnold's  wel 
fare  before  her  departure,  but  would  not  make  any  effort  to 
do  so. 

To  her  surprise,  however,  Roger  handed  her  a  note  the  fol 
lowing  morning.  She  knew  the  handwriting  well,  and 
asked,  "  How  do  you  happen  to  have  this,  Mr.  Atwood  ?" 

"  I  supposed  you  would  wish  to  hear  "from  your  friend, 
and  so  went  up  to  the  hotel.  As  soon  as  Mr.  Arnold  saw 
me  he  asked  me  to  give  you  that  letter. ' ' 

Mildred  bit  her  lip.  Was  it  an  officious  or  a  friendly  act  ? 
She  was  beginning  to  doubt  whether  she  had  fully  gauged 
the  character  of  this  young  farmer,  but  of  one  thing  she  was 
instinctively  certain — his  motive  was  personal,  and  sprung 
from  an  interest  in  her  which  was  now  more  repugnant  than 
ever.  Whether  this  instance  was  an  obtrusive  meddling  in 
her  affairs,  or  an  act  well  meant,  but  unwarranted  by  their 
relations,  she  could  not  tell.  However  it  might  be,  she 
wished  the  letter  had  come  by  any  other  hands  than  his. 

She  gravely  thanked  him,  and  added,  "  Mr.  Atwood, 
please  do  not  feel  called  upon  to  do  anything  further  for  me 
unless  requested." 


136  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

He  grew  pale  and  his  lips  tightened,  for  her  words  and 
manner  hurt  him.  His  act  had  been  in  truth  very  generous 
and  self-effacing,  but  he  merely  bowed  in  seeming  acquies 
cence,  and  turned  away. 

Arnold's  letter  ran  as  follows  : 

1 '  The  memory  of  that  scene  yesterday  will  oppress  me 
forever.  Nothing  could  have  happened  that  would  more 
clearly  convince  you  that  I  am  unworthy  of  your  thought. 
And  yet  it  will  be  a  life-long  agony  to  know  that  I  am  un 
worthy.  When  I  tell  you  that  I  love  and  honor  you  above 
all  other  women  it  is  but  a  poor  compensation,  I  fear,  for  all 
that  I  have  made  you  surfer.  My  mother  has  kindly  (?)  in 
formed  me  that  she  told  you  how  feeble  I  am,  and  I  proved 
her  words  true.  I  feel  that  the  best  service  I  can  render  you 
is  to  say,  Forget  me  wholly  ;  and  yet  you  can  never  know 
what  such  words  cost  me.  /  shall  never  forget,  unless  death 
is  forgetting.  If  I  had  the  strength  to  be  of  any  help  to  you 
at  all,  I  would  break  away  at  once  and  take  the  consequences  ; 
but  I  have  been  an  invalid  all  my  life,  and  why  I  still  con 
tinue  to  live  I  scarcely  know.  If,  however,  there  should 
ever  be  a  time  when  one  so  weak  as  I  am  can  aid  you,  give 
me  this  one  shadowy  hope  that  you  will  come  to  me. 

"  VINTON  ARNOLD." 

This  was  Mildred's  reply  : 

"  It  is  not  in  my  nature  to  forget,  therefore  I  cannot  It 
is  not  my  wish  to  forget,  therefore  I  will  not.  You  will  find 

me  ever  the  same. 

"  MILDRED  JOCELYN." 

Roger  would  have  taken  her  reply  to  the  hotel  that  very 
night,  so  great  was  her  power  over  him,  but  for  his  sake,  as 
well  as  her  own,  she  wished  to  teach  him  once  for  all  that 
their  ways  were  apart  She  dreaded  from  what  he  had  said 


THE  OLD  MANSION;  137 

that  he  would  follow  her  to  the  city  and  renew  the  unwelcome 
association  of  his  life  with  hers.  Therefore  she  engaged 
heavy,  blundering  Jotham  to  deliver  the  note,  giving  him  a 
dollar  from  her  slender  purse  as  a  reward.  He  lost  the  note 
where  it  was  never  found,  and  stolidly  concealed  the  fact  lest 
he  should  lose  the  dollar.  The  little  characteristic  missive  fell 
to  the  earth  somewhere  like  a  seed  that  drops  into  an  un 
kindly  soil  and  perishes.  Roger  only  knew  that  stupid 
Jotham  had  been  preferred  as  her  messenger.  She  made 
no  secret  of  the  fact,  but  gave  the  note  to  the  laborer 
when  he  came  in  to  his  nooning  the  following  day. 
She  knew  Roger  was  watching  her  from  the  front  porch, 
and  as  she  turned  toward  him  she  saw  she  had  wounded  him 
so  deeply  that  she  had  some  compunctions  ;  but  he  avoid 
ed  meeting  her,  nor  did  she  find  a  chance  to  speak  to 
him  again.  When,  an  hour  later,  she  was  ready  to  depart 
with  Mr.  Atwood  for  the  distant  landing,  Roger  was  not 
to  be  found.  Her  conscience  smote  her  a  little,  but  she 
felt  that  it  would  be  the  best  for  him  in  the  future,  and 
would  probably  end  his  nonsense  about  leaving  home  and 
winning  fame  out  in  the  world.  She  had  a  warm,  genuine 
good-will  for  Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan,  and  even  for  poor, 
grumbling  Mr.  Atwood,  at  whose  meagre,  shrivelled  life  she 
often  wondered  ;  and  it  would  be  a  source  of  much  pain  to 
her  if  she  became  even  the  blameless  cause  of  Roger's  leaving 
home  in  the  absurd  hope  of  eventually  becoming  great  and 
rich,  and  then  appearing  to  her  in  her  poverty,  like  a  prince 
in  fairy  lore.  "  Nothing  but  the  most  vigorous  snubbing 
will  bring  him  to  his  senses,"  she  thought,  and  she  now 
believed  that  he  would  soon  subside  into  his  old  life,  and  be 
none  the  worse  for  the  summer's  episode.  Therefore,  after 
embracing  her  mother  again  and  again  in  her  room,  she  bade 
Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan  good-by  very  kindly,  and  they  saw 
her  depart  with  genuine  regret  For  Roger  there  was  noth- 


138  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

ing  more  than  the  quiet  remark  to  Mrs.  Atwood,  "  Please 
say  good-by  for  me  to  your  son. ' ' 

Belle  and  the  children  accompanied  her  to  the  landing, 
and  were  in  great  glee  over  the  long  drive.  Mildred's  spirits 
rose  also.  She  had  learned  most  emphatically  that  she  was 
not  dead  to  her  lover,  and  she  thought  her  words,  brief  as 
they  were,  would  cheer  and  sustain  him  and  suggest  hope  for 
the  future.  Although  she  was  a  little  sorry  for  Roger,  she 
was  glad  to  think  that  his  dark,  searching  eyes  would  no 
longer  follow  her,  nor  she  be  compelled  from  day  to  day  to 
recognize  a  curbed  but  ever-present  and  unwelcome  regard. 
His  feeling  toward  her  seemed  like  something  pent  up,  yet 
growing,  and  she  was  always  fearing  it  might  burst  forth.  In 
his  mastery  of  the  horse  he  had  shown  himself  so  strong  and 
fearless  that,  not  sure  of  his  self-restraint,  she  dreaded  lest  in 
some  unguarded  moment  he  might  vehemently  plead  for  her 
love.  The  very  thought  of  this  made  her  shudder  and  shrink, 
and  the  belief  that  she  would  probably  never  see  him  again 
gave  decided  relief. 

Chief  of  all,  she  was  glad  that  her  weary  waiting  and  un 
certainty  were  over.  She  was  now  on  her  way  to  seek  in 
dependence  and  a  home.  However  humble  the  latter,  it 
would  be  a  place  from  which  could  be  excluded  all  strange 
and  prying  looks.  When  together  and  alone  again,  their 
sorrows  and  weaknesses  could  be  hidden  or  seen  only  with 
the  eyes  of  love. 

The  ten  days  or  more  that  had  elapsed  since  Mr.  Jocelyn's 
departure  had  made  him  doubtful  whether  he  could  hide  his 
weakness  or  overcome  it  very  readily.  He  believed  he  was 
gaining  ground  since  he  was  able  to  reduce  the  amount  of 
morphia  taken,  but  in  order  to  keep  up  he  had  to  employ 
the  stimulant  more  frequently.  By  this  method  he  hoped 
never  so  to  lose  self-control  as  to  excite  suspicion,  and  also 
gradually  to  wean  himself  from  the  drug  altogether.  Of  the 


THE   OLD  MANSION.  139 

two  he  would  rather  meet  Mildred  than  his  wife  ;  the  latter 
must  be  kept  in  ignorance,  since  to  destroy  her  absolute  trust 
was  to  be  destroyed.  Mildred  would  more  quickly  suspect 
his  fault  than  would  her  mother,  and  if  he  could  hide  his 
failing  from  her  he  surely  could  from  his  wife,  until  complete 
mastery  left  nothing  to  be  concealed.  That  day  of  liberty 
always  seemed  but  a  little  in  advance.  He  surely  had  the 
will  and  the  strength  to  give  up  a  mere  drug.  He  who  had 
led  charges  amid  the  smoke  and  thunder  of  a  hundred  can 
non,  and  had  warded  off  sabre-thrusts  from  muscular,  reso 
lute  hands,  was  not  going  to  be  pricked  to  death  by  a  little 
syringe  in  his  own  hand.  His  very  thraldom  to  the  habit 
seemed  an  improbable,  grotesque  dream,  which  some  morn 
ing  would  dissipate,  but  as  a  matter  of  experience  each  morn 
ing  brought  such  a  profound  sinking  and  "  goneness"  that 
his  will-power  shrivelled  like  a  paper  barricade  before  the 
scorching  intensity  of  his  desire.  After  the  stimulant  began 
its  work,  however,  all  things  seemed  possible,  and  nothing 
more  so  than  his  power  to  abandon  the  drug  when  he  should 
fully  decide  upon  the  act. 

On  the  morning  of  Mildred's  arrival,  having  lifted  himself 
out  of  his  chronic  dejection  by  the  lever  of  opium,  he  went 
to  meet  her  with  the  genuine  gladness  of  a  proud,  loving 
father  asserting  itself  like  a  ray  of  June  light  struggling 
through  noxious  vapors.  She  was  delighted  to  find  him  ap 
parently  so  well.  His  walk  and  the  heat  had  brought  color 
to  his  face,  the  drug  had  bestowed  animation  and  confidence, 
while  his  heart  gave  an  honest,  loving  welcome  without  the 
aid  of  any  stimulant.  They  rode  up-town  together  as  happily 
and  hopefully  as  if  the  nearly  empty  car  were  their  own  car 
riage,  and  they  were  seeking  a  home  in  Fifth  Avenue  instead 
of  a  tenement-house  ;  but  the  hope  and  happiness  of  one 
was  based  on  youth,  love,  faith,  courage,  and  inexperience, 
and  of  the  other  on  a  lurid  cloud  that  would  darken  steadily 


140  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

except  as  renewed  gleams  were  shot  through  it  by  a  light  that 
was  infernal.  Any  kindly  man  or  woman  would  have  smiled 
appreciatively  to  see  the  handsome  father  and  beautiful  daugh 
ter  apparently  as  absorbed  in  each  other's  plans  and  interests 
as  a  young  couple  seeking  the  home  in  which  their  future  life 
would  centre.  Who  would  dream  that  on  this  sunny  morn 
ing,  and  in  a  prosaic  street-car,  the  actors  of  a  sad,  sad  tragedy 
were  on  their  way  to  its  unsuspected  scenes  ?  Who  would 
dream  that  Mildred  and  her  father,  of  all  others,  were  the 
actors  ? 

"  Millie,"  said  Mr.  Jocelyn,  "  I  fear  the  place  to  which 
I  shall  at  first  take  you  may  shock  you  a  little.  It's  an  old 
Revolutionary  mansion,  gray  and  rather  dilapidated,  but  it 
reminded  me  of  some  of  our  residences  in  the  South  ;  and, 
although  perhaps  no  better — perhaps  not  so  good — it  is  still 
quite  unlike  the  stereotyped  tenement-house  abomination 
prevailing  in  this  city.  This  ancient  abode  of  colonial  wealth 
took  my  fancy.  It  suggested  our  own  changed  fortunes  by 
its  fall  to  its  present  uses.  And  yet  the  carving  around  and 
above  the  doors  and  windows,  much  of  which  still  remains, 
and  the  lofty  ceilings  all  remind  one  of  past  better  days  that 
can  never  return  to  the  poor  house,  but  which  we  must  bring 
back  as  soon  as  possible.  I  shall  never  be  content  or  happy, 
Millie,  until  I  have  placed  my  dear  ones  in  the  sphere  to 
which  they  really  belong  ;  but  for  the  present  I  do  not  see 
how  we  can  pay  rent  for  anything  much  better  than  rooms 
in  the  old  mansion.  As  far  as  I  can  learn,  the  people  who 
live  in  it  are  poor,  but  quiet  and  respectable. 

Her  father's  opium-tinged  description  caught  Mildred's 
fancy  also,  but  when  she  saw  the  building  her  heart  sank  at 
the  prospect  To  her  a  tenement-house  was  as  yet  a  vague, 
untested  reality,  and  the  one  before  her  was  indeed  old  and 
dilapidated,  gray  and  haggard  with  more  than  a  century's  age. 

The  mansion  having  been  built  to  face  the  river,  its  front 


THE   OLD  MANSION.  141 

Was  not  upon  the  street,  but  toward  the  west.  Around  its 
base  the  mortar  was  crumbling  away,  revealing  its  mingled 
brick  and  stone  foundation.  The  hip-roof  of  weather-beaten 
shingles  still  remained,  and  was  surmounted  by  a  wide-railed 
and  wooden  platform  used  by  the  occupants  of  the  dwelling 
for  the  drying  of  clothes,  etc. 

"  It  makes  me  think  of  an  old,  dying,  moss-draped  white 
oak  standing  in  the  midst  of  trees  of  younger  and  different 
growth,"  said  Mr.  Jocelyn,  as  he  and  Mildred  scanned  the 
gable-end  of  the  house. 

Then  they  entered  by  two  or  three  stone  steps  a  narrow 
passage,  ascended  a  forlorn  wooden  stairway,  covered  overhead 
by  a  few  boards,  nailed  lengthwise,  and  so  reached  a  small 
landing,  where  once  had  been  a  stately  porch  or  wide  veranda, 
looking  no  doubt  over  a  broad  sweep  of  lawn  and  the  shining 
river.  The  high-arched  doorway  was  still  intact,  with  elabo 
rately  carved  but  now  defaced  wood-work,  which,  rising  from 
the  sill  on  either  side,  was  continued  in  various  old-fashioned 
designs  until  it  culminated  over  a  large  square  window  in  the 
second  story.  Generations  had  watched  the  sunsets  from 
that  window,  but  now  high  brick  walls  threw  it  in  shadow 
much  of  the  day. 

A  quaint  brass  knocker  which  gentlemen  —  long  since 
dust — had  approached  wearing  laced  three-cornered  hats, 
velvet  short-clothes,  and  silver  buckles,  and  upon  which 
they  had  rapped  announcement  of  their  social  claims,  still 
hung  on  the  rest  from  which  they  had  lifted  it.  It  was  not 
often  used  at  present,  for  people  entered  without  knocking, 
and  the  wide  hall  within  was  in  a  sense  but  a  continuation  of 
the  street  ;  also  the  winding  stairway,  with  its  ancient  rail, 
which  started  out  on  one  side  and  wound  up  to  another 
square  hallway.  To  each  of  these  open  spaces  the  several 
families  had  equal  rights. 

The  lower  hall  had  originally  extended  through  the  whole 


142  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

depth  of  the  building  to  a  rear  doorway,  equally  old-fashioned 
but  less  elaborately  ornamented,  but  now  a  partition  crossed 
the  raised  circle  on  the  ceiling  from  which  had  once  hung  an 
ancient  candelabrum.  Upon  each  hallway  opened  four  suites 
of  two  rooms  each,  and  thus  the  old  mansion  usually  sheltered 
twelve  families  instead  of  one.  The  doors  were  high,  and 
surmounted  by  quaint  and  worm-eaten  carved  work. 

These  halls  seemed  very  dark  and  close  to  Mildred,  who 
had  just  come  out  of  the  sunlight  and  from  the  country,  but 
they  were  cool  and  spacious.  They  were  shown  by  the  jani 
tor  to  a  room  over  twenty  feet  square  on  the  second  story, 
whose  former  occupants  had  left  the  souvenir  of  unlimited 
dirt.  "  They  was  dissipated,  and  we  don't  let  sich  stay  in 
the  buildin',"  said  the  man.  "  That's  one  thing  in  favor  of 
the  place,  papa,"  poor  Mildred  remarked,  and  at  the  moment 
it  seemed  to  her  about  the  only  thing,  for  the  old  house  was 
evidently  going  down  hill  so  fast  that  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  it 
might  carry  its  occupants  with  it  Still,  on  further  inspec 
tion,  the  room  was  found  to  be  so  large  and  airy  and  the 
ceiling  so  high  that  it  might  be  made  the  abode  of  health  and 
romfort.  Opening  into  the  large  apartment  was  another  about 
eight  feet  by  twelve,  and  this  was  all. 

Mildred  drew  a  long  breath.  Could  the  whole  domestic 
life  of  the  family  be  carried  on  in  those  two  rooms  ?  "  I  never 
realized  how  thousands  of  people  live,"  she  sighed. 

"  It  will  only  be  for  a  little  while,  Millie,"  whispered  her 
father. 

The  young  girl  shrank  and  shivered  even  in  the  summer 
morning  at  the  ordeal  of  crowded  life,  with  only  intervening 
doorways  and  thin  partitions  between  them  and  all  sorts  of 
unknown  neighbors. 

' '  Suppose,  papa,  we  look  at  the  other  rooms  of  which  you 
have  the  refusal,"  she  faltered. 

Even  in  his  false  buoyancy  he  could  not  suppress  a  sigh  as 


THE   OLD   MANSION.  143 

he  saw  that  Mildred,  in  spite  of  her  determination  to  make 
the  best  of  everything,  had  not  imagined  what  a  tenement- 
house  was.  "  We  will  be  back  in  an  hour  or  more,"  he 
whispered  to  the  janitor,  for  he  believed  the  other  rooms 
would  appear  still  more  repulsive. 

And  so  they  did,  for  when  Mildred  had  climbed  up  three 
stairways  in  a  five-story,  narrow  house,  which  even  at  that 
hour  was  filled  with  a  babel  of  sounds,  the  old  mansion 
seemed  a  refuge,  and  when  she  had  glanced  around  the  nar 
row  room  and  two  dark  closets  of  bedrooms,  she  shuddered 
and  said,  "  Papa,  can  we  really  afford  nothing  better?" 

"  Honestly,  Millie,  we  cannot  for  the  present.  My  income 
is  exceedingly  small,  although  it  will  soon  be  increased,  no 
doubt.  But  if  we  pay  too  much  for  rooms  we  shall  have 
nothing  to  live  upon  while  waiting  for  better  times.  These 
rooms  are  fourteen  dollars  a  month.  Those  in  the  old  man 
sion  are  only  eight,  and  the  two  rooms  there  give  more 
chance  for  comfort  than  do  these  three. ' ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,"  cried  Mildred,  "  I  could  not  live  here 
at  all.  Let  us  go  back. " 

While  returning,  her  father  showed  her  apartments  in 
other  tenements  for  which  rents  of  ten  to  sixteen  dollars  were 
charged,  and  she  saw  that  she  would  not  obtain  any  more  in 
space  and  light  than  for  half  the  money  in  the  old  house, 
which  had  been  built  when  that  part  of  the  island  was  open 
country. 

"  Forgive  me,  papa,"  she  said,  smiling,  "  that  I  shivered 
a  little  at  the  first  plunge.  We  will  go  to  the  old  house  and 
stay  there  until  we  can  do  better.  It  was  once  evidently  a 
beautiful  home,  and  I  believe  that  within  it  we  can  make  a 
happy  home,  if  we  will.  These  other  tenements  were  never 
homes,  and  I  don't  see  how  they  ever  could  be.  They  are 
angular,  patent,  human  packing-boxes,  which  mock  at  the 
very  idea  of  home  coziness  and  privacy.  They  were  .never 


144  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

built  for  homes,  they  were  built  to  rent.  In  the  old  house 
I  noticed  that  a  blank  wall  near  will  prevent  people  staring 
into  our  windows,  and  the  space  has  not  been  so  cut  up  but 
that  we  can  keep  ourselves  somewhat  secluded." 

Next  to  a  quiet  way  of  earning  money,  Mildred  coveted 
seclusion  beyond  everything  else.  There  was  one  deep  hope 
that  fed  her  life.  Her  father  would  work  his  way  up  into 
affluence,  and  she  again  could  welcome  Vinton  Arnold  to 
her  own  parlor.  Happiness  would  bring  him  better  health, 
and  the  time  would  come  when  he  could  choose  and  act  as 
his  heart  dictated.  With  woman's  pathetic  fortitude  and 
patience  she  would  hope  and  wait  for  that  day.  But  not  for 
the  world  must  his  proud  mother  know  to  what  straits  they 
were  driven,  and  she  meant  that  the  old  house  should  be 
come  a  hiding-place  as  well  as  a  home. 

Therefore  the  rooms  in  the  old  mansion  were  taken.  A 
stout,  cheery  English  woman,  who  with  her  plump,  red 
arms  was  fighting  life's  battle  for  herself  and  a  brood  of  little 
ones,  was  engaged  to  clean  up  and  prepare  for  the  furniture. 
Mildred  was  eager  to  get  settled,  and  her  father,  having 
ordered  such  household  goods  as  they  required  to  be  sent 
from  their  place  of  storage  the  following  day,  repaired  to  his 
place  of  business. 

"  Now,  miss,"  said  sensible  Mrs.  Wheaton,  "  I  don't  vant 
to  do  hany  more  than  yer  vants  done,  but  hif  I  was  you  I'  d 
give  hall  these  'ere  vails  a  coat  hof  lime.  Vitevash  is  'ole- 
some,  yer  know,  and  sweetens  heverything  ;  hit' 11  kind  o' 
take  haway  the  nasty  taste  those  drunken  people  left." 

"  Please  whitewash,  then,  and  use  plenty  of  lime.  If  you 
can  sweeten  these  rooms,  do  so  by  all  means,  but  I  fear  that 
result  is  beyond  your  brush  or  any  other." 

"You've  seen  better  days,  miss,  and  I  'ave  meself ;  but 
yer  mustn't  be  down'arted,  yer  know.  See  'ow  the  sunshine 
comes  in,  and  ven  hit  falls  hon  a  carpet,  a  little  furniture,  and 


THE   OLD  MANSION.  145 

yer  hown  people,  these  'ere  rooms  vill  soon  grow  'omelike, 
and  yer'  11  come  back  to  '  em  haf ter  yer  day' s  vork'  s  hover 
gladly  henough.     I  s'pose  yer' 11  vork,   since  you've  come 
hamong  people  who  must  vork  hearly  and  late." 
"  Yes,  indeed,  we'll  work — that  is  all  we  ask  for." 
"  And  hit's  time  I  vas  habout  mine  hinstead  hof  gossip 
ing  'ere.      Yer' 11  soon  see  'ow  spick  and  span  I'll  make 
hevery  thing. ' ' 

With  a  dispatch,  deftness,  and  strength  that  to  Mildred 
seemed  wonderful,  she  bought  the  lime,  made  the  wash,  and 
soon  dark  stains  and  smoky  patches  of  wall  and  ceiling  grew 
white  under  her  strong,  sweeping  strokes.  It  was  not  in  the 
girl's  nature,  nor  in  accordance  with  her  present  scheme 
of  life,  to  be  an  idle  spectator,  and  from  her  travelling-bag 
she  soon  transformed  herself  into  as  charming  a  house-cleaner 
as  ever  waged  war  against  that  chief  enemy  of  life  and  health 
— dirt  Her  round,  white  arms,  bared  almost  to  the  shoul 
der,  seemed  designed  as  a  sculptor's  model  rather  than  to 
wield  the  brush  with  which  she  scoured  the  paint  and  wood 
work  ;  but  she  thought  not  of  sculpture  except  in  the  remote 
and  figurative  way  of  querying,  with  mind  far  absent  from 
her  work,  how  best  she  could  carve  their  humble  fortunes  out 
of  the  unpromising  material  of  the  present  and  the  near 
future. 


146  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 


CHAPTER  XV. 
"WELCOME    HOME." 

MILDRED  felt  that  she  had  become  a  working-woman 
in  very  truth  as  she  cleaned  the  dingy  closets,  vin 
dictively  prying  into  corners  and  crevices  that  had  been 
unmolested  by  generations  of  tenants,  and  the  rich  color  pro 
duced  by  summer  heat  and  unwonted  exertion  deepened  at 
the  thought,  ' '  What  would  Vinton  Arnold,  what  would  his 
mother  think  if  they  saw  me  now  ?  The  latter  would  un 
doubtedly  remark,"  she  murmured,  in  bitterness  of  spirit, 
"  that  I  had  at  last  found  my  true  sphere,  and  was  engaged  in 
befitting  tasks  ;  but  should  I  lose  in  his  eyes  ?' ' 

Indeed  she  would  not,  either  in  his  eyes  or  in  those  of  any 
other  man  capable  of  appreciating  womanly  grace.  Genuine 
beauty  is  a  rare  and  wonderful  gift,  and,  like  genius,  tri 
umphs  over  adverse  circumstances,  and  is  often  enhanced  by 
them.  Even  prosaic  Mrs.  Wheaton  was  compelled  to  pause 
from  time  to  time  to  admire  the  slender,  supple  form  whose 
perfect  outlines  were  revealed  by  the  stooping,  twisting,  and 
reaching  required  by  the  nature  of  the  labor.  But  the  vary 
ing  expressions  of  her  face,  revealing  a  mind  as  active  as  the 
busy  hands,  were  a  richer  study.  The  impact  of  her  brush 
was  vigorous,  and  with  looks  of  aversion  and  disgust  she 
would  cleanse  away  the  grimy  stains  as  if  they  were  an  es 
sential  part  of  the  moral  as  well  as  gross  material  life  of  the 
former  occupants.  To  a  refined  nature  association  forms  no 
slight  element  in  the  constitution  of  a  home  ;  and  horrible 


"WELCOME  HOME"  147 

conjectures  concerning  repulsive  indications  of  the  vulgar 
people  who  once  kennelled  where  others  would  live  decently 
and  purely  are  among  the  manifold  miseries  of  tenement 
life.  In  spite  of  all  her  will-power,  Mildred  shuddered,  and 
shrank  from  even  this  remote  contact  with  a  phase  of  human 
ity  peculiarly  revolting  to  her,  and  the  protest  of  her  innate 
delicacy  would  often  appear  strongly  upon  her  face. 

"  The  worst  of  it  is,"  she  muttered,  "  that  soap  and  water 
cannot  blot  out  thoughts  of  the  people  who  were  here  before 
us." 

But  thoughts  of  other  people,  some  of  whom  were  very 
dear  to  her,  brought  varying  expression?,  and  once  she 
smiled  and  said  to  herself,  "  Roger  Atwood  now  thinks,  no 
doubt,  that  in  me  he  has  seen  another  '  ghost  of  a  woman/ 
weighing  a  little  less  than  '  two  hundred. '  Of  all  my  little 
affairs  of  that  nature,  his  was  the  most  preposterous  and 
absurd.  That  one  human  being  should  expect  and  seek  from 
knother  what  is  so  impossible  to  give  produces  ^.  certain  half- 
humorous  irritation  that  is  indescribable." 

Stout  Mrs.  Wheaton'  s  mind  and  fancy  were  not  so  busy  as 
her  hands,  and  when  twelve  o'clock  came  she  knew  the  hour, 
although  carrying  no  watch.  She  had  interrupted  Mildred's 
musings  from  time  to  time,  but  had  received  rather  absent 
replies,  for  the  actual  inception  of  a  life  of  toil  occasioned 
many  thoughts. 

When,  however,  the  practical  woman  remarked,  "I've  a 
hinside  'int  that  hit's  time  we  took  a  bite  together,"  Mildred 
awakened  to  an  honest  and  hungry  approval  of  the  suggestion. 

"  I  don't  like  to  intrude  upon  you,  Mrs.  Wheaton,"  she 
said.  "  Isn't  there  some  place  near  where  I  can  go  ?" 

"  Hindeed  there  his — right  down  to  my  room,  hif  ye' re 
not  habove  my  company.  I  can  brew  yer  has  good  a  cup 
o'  tea  has  hany  cook  in  the  land,  and  ve'  11  find  somethin' 
nourishin'  to  go  vith  hit." 


148  V/ITJTOUT  A    HOME. 

"  Mrs.  Wheaton,  you  are  a  genuine  friend.  I'm  so  glad 
you  were  here  and  willing  to  help  me,  for  you  make  me  feel 
safer  and  more  hopeful.  You  seem  brave  and  not  afraid  of 
being  poor,  and  I  want  to  learn  your  courage.  So  far  from 
being  above  your  company,  I  am  very  grateful  for  it,  and  I 
shall  try  to  repay  your  kindness  with  like  neighborly  return 
when  I  can  ;  but  when  it  comes  to  actual  expense  you  must 
let  me  pay  my  way.  How  is  it  you  are  so  brave  and  cheery 
when,  as  you  say,  you  are  alone  with  several  children  to  sup 
port  ?' ' 

"I'll  tell  yer  vhile  ve  heat  hour  dinner;  so  lock  the 
door  and  come  vith  me." 

Mrs.  Wheaton' s  room  was  plain,  indeed,  but  neat  and 
homelike.  A  variegated  and  much-patched  carpet  covered 
part  of  the  floor,  which  was  bare  around  the  ample  cooking- 
stove,  whereon  a  wholesome  dinner  soon  smoked  with  appe 
tizing  odors.  Her  daughter,  a  young  girl  about  twelve 
years  of  age,  assisted  in  the  preparations,  and  then  went  to 
call  the  other  children,  who  were  playing  on  the  side 
walk. 

"  'Ow  is  it  I'm  so  brave  and  cheery?"  Mrs.  Wheaton  at 
last  answered  with  a  sunshiny  smile.  "  I've  a  stout  pair  hof 
harms,  I've  a  stout  body,  and  I've  a  downright  belief  that 
the  Lord  means  veil  by  me  and  mine.  I'm  tryin'  to  do  my 
best,  and  hit's  is  biziness  to  take  care  hof  the  rest.  Hand 
'E  'as  so  far.  I've  been  a  bit  'ungry  meself  now  and 
then,  but  the  children  halways  'ad  enough.  So  I  vork  and 
trust  and  lose  no  time  and  strength  ha-vorrying.  Things'  11 
all  come  hout  right  some  day  ;  and  I've  no  time  to  be  doin' 
the  Lord's  vork  hin  carryin'  the  burden  hon  my  shoulders, 
hif  they  are  broad.  'Ere's  the  children  ;  now  sit  right  down 
with  hus,  andvelcome.  Since  ve' re  neighbors  ve' 11  be  neigh 
borly  and  friendly  like  ;  and  before  yer  know  hit,  yer' 11  be 
snug  and  comfortable  hin  your  hown  rooms,  and  yer  can  be 


"WELCOME  HOME."  149 

jist  as  'appy  bin  'em  has  hever  yer vas  bin  yer  life.   Bein'  poor 
and  'avmg  to  vork  hain't  the  vorst  troubles  in  the  vorld." 

The  good  woman's  stout,  cheery  spirit  and  homely  faith 
were  just  the  tonics  that  Mildred  needed,  and  they  were  all  the 
more  effective  because  combined  with  the  exhilarating  tea  and 
wholesome  food.  Therefore  instead  of  a  weary  and  depress 
ing  day,  in  which  body  and  spirit  acted  and  reacted  on  each 
other  until  the  evening  brought  shadows  deeper  than  the 
night,  her  courage  and  cheerfulness  grew  with  the  hours  of 
sustained  and  healthful  toil,  and  when  her  father  appeared  at 
six  o'clock  her  smile  warmed  his  heart.  At  the  cost  of  no 
slight  effort  he  had  so  reduced  his  doses  of  morphia  that 
neither  she  nor  any  one  could  have  detected  anything  unnat 
ural  in  his  manner.  He  praised  their  work  unstintedly,  and 
thanked  Mrs.  Wheaton  for  her  kindness  with  such  warm 
Southern  frankness  that  her  eyes  grew  moist  with  gratification. 
Indeed  the  rooms  had  grown  so  clean  and  wholesome  that 
Mr.  Jocelyn  said  that  they  looked  homelike  already.  Mrs. 
Wheaton  assured  Mildred  that  if  she  would  be  content,  she 
could  be  made  quite  comfortable  on  a  lounge  in  her  large 
living-room,  and  the  young  girl  won  her  heart  completely  by 
saying  that  she  would  rather  stay  with  her  than  go  to  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel.  Her  words  were  sincere,  for  in  accordance 
with  her  nature  her  heart  was  already  drawn  toward  the  place 
which  gave  even  promise  of  a  home,  and  the  hearty  kindness 
received  there  made  her  shrink  from  the  strange,  indifferent 
world  without. 

Her  father  asked  her  to  resume  her  travelling  dress,  and 
then  by  a  street-car  they  soon  reached  a  quiet  restaurant  near 
Central  Park,  from  which  the  outlook  was  upon  trees  and 
shrubbery.  The  people  of  New  York  are  singularly  fortunate 
in  their  ability  to  reach,  at  slight  expense  of  money  and  time, 
many  places  where  the  air  is  pure,  and  the  sense  of  beauty 
can  find  abundant  gratification.  Mildred  felt  that  only 


150  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

extreme  poverty  could  rob  them  in  summer  of  many  simple 
yet  genuine  pleasures.  When,  after  their  frugal  supper,  she 
and  her  father  strolled  through  a  path  winding  around  a  min 
iature  lake  on  which  swans  were  floating,  she  believed  that 
one  of  her  chief  fears  might  be  unfounded.  Her  love  of 
beauty  need  not  be  stifled,  since  there  was  so  much,  even  in 
the  crowded  town,  which  could  be  seen  without  cost. 

' '  Papa, ' '  she  said,  ' '  our  lives  will  not  be  meagre  and  color 
less  unless  we  make  them  so.  Every  tree  and  shrub — indeed 
every  leaf  upon  them  and  every  ripple  on  the  water — seems 
beautiful  to  me  this  evening.  I  do  not  fear  working  hard  if 
we  can  often  have  these  inexpensive  pleasures.  The  thing 
in  poverty  that  has  most  troubled  me  was  the  fear  that  one's 
nature  might  become  blunted,  callous,  and  unresponsive.  A 
starved  soul  and  heart  seem  to  me  infinitely  worse  than  a 
starved  body.  Thank  God,  this  beautiful  place  is  as  free  to 
us  now  as  ever,  and  I  think  we  epjoy  it  more  than  many  of 
those  people  in  yonder  carriages.  Then  at  the  cost  of  a  few 
pennies  we  can  get  many  a  breezy  outlook,  and  fill  our  lungs 
with  fresh  air  on  the  ferry-boats.  So  don't  let  us  be  down 
hearted,  papa,  and  mope  while  we  are  waiting  for  better 
days.  Each  day  may  bring  us  something  that  we  can  enjoy 
with  honest  zest ' ' 

' '  God  bless  you,  Millie, ' '  replied  her  father.  ' '  We'  11  try 
to  do  just  as  you  suggest."  Nevertheless  he  sighed  deeply. 
She  was  free  ;  he  was  a  slave.  In  the  depths  of  the  placid 
lake  the  graceful  swans,  the  pretty  wooded  shores,  were  faith 
fully  reflected.  In  Mildred's  clear  blue  eyes  the  truth  of  her 
words,  the  goodness  and  sincerity  of  her  heart,  were  revealed 
with  equal  certainty.  His  eyes  were  downcast  and  fixed  on 
an  abyss  which  no  soul  has  ever  fathomed. 

"  Great  God  !"  he  murmured,  "  I  must  escape  ;  I  shall 
— I  will  escape  ;"  but  while  Mildred  stepped  into  a  florist's 
shop  to  purchase  a  blooming  plant  for  Mrs.  Wheaton,  he 


"WELCOME  HOME."  151 

furtively  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  paper  of  white-looking 
powder — just  the  amount  which  experience  had  taught  him 
he  could  take  and  not  betray  himself.  As  a  result  she  was 
delighted  to  find  him  genial  and  wakeful  until  they  parted 
rather  late  in  the  old  mansion  wherein,  she  jestingly  said,  she 
proposed  to  build  their  nest,  like  a  barn-swallow,  the  follow 
ing  day. 

After  a  brief  consultation  with  Mrs.  Wheaton  the  next 
morning  Mildred  told  her  father  to  send  for  the  rest  of  the 
family  at  once,  and  that  she  would  be  ready  for  them.  The 
household  goods  arrived  promptly  from  their  place  of  storage, 
and  she  was  positively  happy  while  transforming  the  bare 
rooms  into  a  home  that  every  hour  grew  more  inviting. 
They  had  retained,  when  giving  up  their  house  in  the  spring, 
more  furniture  than  was  sufficient  for  the  limited  space  they 
would  now  occupy,  and  Mildred  had  enough  material  and 
taste  to  banish  the  impression  of  poverty  almost  wholly  from 
their  two  rooms.  She  had  the  good  sense,  also,  to  make  the 
question  of  appearances  always  secondary  to  that  of  comfort, 
and  rigorously  excluded  what  was  bulky  and  unnecessary. 
' '  I  don' t  like  crowded  rooms, ' '  she  said,  ' '  and  mamma 
must  have  just  as  little  to  care  for  and  tax  her  strength  as 
possible."  One  side  of  the  large  room  was  partitioned  off  as 
a  sleeping  apartment  for  her  father,  mother,  and  the  two  chil 
dren,  and  was  made  private  by  curtains  of  dark,  inexpensive 
material.  The  remainder  and  larger  part  facing  the  east  was 
to  be  kitchen,  dining  and  living  room.  Mrs.  Wheaton  did 
the  heavy  work,  and  looked  on  in  delighted  wonder  as  the 
young  girl,  with  a  gift  peculiarly  her  own,  gave  an  air  of 
grace  and  homelike  coziness  to  every  part.  Hers  was  a  true 
woman's  touch  in  woman's  undisputed  realm,  and  her  father, 
with  strange  alternations  of  sighs  and  smiles,  assisted  her  after 
his  return  from  business.  Gas  had  never  been  introduced  in 
the  old  house,  and  so  two  pretty  shaded  lamps  were  bought 


154  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

never  to  take  stimulants  at  all.  They  had  better  die  than  to 
begin  to  use  them  habitually,  and  even  to  touch  them  is 
hazardous.  There  is  slumbering  in  their  natures  a  predispo 
sition  toward  their  excessive  use  which  a  slight  indulgence 
may  kindle  into  a  consuming,  clamorous  desire.  Opium 
had  apparently  found  something  peculiarly  congenial  in  Mr. 
Jocelyn's  temperament  and  constitution,  and  at  first  it  had 
rewarded  him  with  experiences  more  delightful  than  most  of 
its  votaries  enjoy.  But  it  is  not  very  long  content  to  remain 
a  servant,  and  in  many  instances  very  speedily  becomes  the 
most  terrible  of  masters.  He  had  already  reached  such  an 
advanced  stage  of  dependence  upon  it  that  its  withdrawal 
would  now  leave  him  weak,  helpless,  and  almost  distracted 
for  a  time.  It  would  probably  cost  him  his  situation  ;  his 
weakness  would  be  revealed  to  his  family  and  to  the  world, 
and  the  knowledge  of  it  might  prevent  his  obtaining  employ 
ment  elsewhere  ;  therefore  he  felt  that  he  must  hide  the  vice 
and  fight  it  to  its  death  in  absolute  secrecy.  Under  the  ter 
rible  necromancy  of  his  sin  the  wife  from  whom  he  had 
scarcely  concealed  a  thought  in  preceding  years  was  the  one 
whom  he  most  feared.  As  yet  the  habit  was  a  sin,  because 
he  had  the  power  to  overcome  it  if  he  would  simply  resolve  to 
do  right  regardless  of  the  consequences  ;  and  these  would  be 
slight  indeed  compared  with  the  results  of  further  indulgence. 
He  had  better  lose  his  situation  a  hundred  times  ;  he  had 
better  see  his  family  faint  from  hunger  for  weeks  together, 
should  such  an  ordeal  be  an  essential  part  of  his  struggle  for 
freedom,  for  only  by  such  an  unfaltering  effort  could  he  re 
gain  the  solid  ground  on  which  enduring  happiness  and  pros 
perity  could  be  built.  As  it  was,  he  was  rapidly  approaching 
a  point  where  his  habit  would  become  a  terrible  and  uncon 
trollable  disease,  for  which  he  would  still  be  morally  re 
sponsible — a  responsibility,  however,  in  which,  before  the 
bar  of  true  justice,  the  physician  who  first  gave  the  drug  with- 


"WELCOME  HOME."  155 

out  adequate  caution  would  deeply  share.  He  felt  his  dan 
ger  as  he  sat  cowering  over  the  dying  fire  ;  even  with  its 
warmth  added  to  that  of  the  summer  night  he  shivered  at 
his  peril,  but  he  did  not  appreciate  it  in  any  proper  sense. 
He  resolved  again,  as  he  often  had  before,  that  each  day 
should  witness  increasing  progress,  then  feeling  that  he  musl 
sleep  he  bared  his  arm  and  sent  enough  of  Magendie's  solu 
tion  into  his  system  to  produce  such  rest  as  opium  bestows. 

To  her  surprise  Mildred  found  the  awakening  of  her  father 
a  difficult  task  the  following  morning.  The  boat  on  which 
his  wife  and  children  were  to  arrive  was  probably  already  at 
the  wharf,  and  she  had  thought  he  would  be  up  with  the  sun 
to  meet  them,  but  he  seemed  oppressed  with  an  untimely 
stupor.  When  at  last  he  appeared  he  explained  that  the  fire 
on  the  hearth  had  induced  a  fit  of  brooding  over  the  past  and 
future,  and  that  he  had  sat  up  late. 

"  Here's  a  cup  of  coffee,  papa,"  she  said  briskly,  "  and 
it  will  wake  you  up.  I'  11  have  breakfast  ready  for  you  all  by 
the  time  you  can  return,  and  I'm  so  eager  to  see  mamma 
that  I  could  fly  to  her. ' ' 

Mortified  that  he  should  even  appear  dilatory  at  such  a 
time,  he  hastened  away,  but  he  was  far  beyond  such  a  mild 
stimulant  as  coffee.  Even  now,  when  events  were  occurring 
which  would  naturally  sustain  from  their  deep  personal  in 
terest,  he  found  himself  reduced  to  an  almost  complete  de 
pendence  on  an  unnatural  support.  Before  sleeping  he  had 
appealed  to  his  dread  master,  and  his  first  waking  moments 
brought  a  renewed  act  of  homage.  Opium  was  becoming 
his  god,  his  religion.  Already  it  stood  between  him  and  his 
wife  and  children.  It  was  steadily  undermining  his  charac 
ter,  and  if  not  abandoned  would  soon  leave  but  the  hollow 
semblance  of  a  man. 

As  the  steamboat  arrived  in  the  night,  Mrs.  Jocelyn  had  no 
sense  of  disappointment  at  not  being  met,  and  through  Mil- 


156  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 

dred's  persistency  it  was  still  early  when  her  husband  ar> 
peared.  His  greeting  was  so  affectionate,  and  he  appeared 
so  well  after  his  hasty  walk,  that  the  old  glad,  hopeful  look 
came  into  her  eyes.  To  Belle  and  the  children,  coming 
back  to  the  city  was  like  coming  home  as  in  former  years, 
only  a  little  earlier.  The  farm  had  grown  to  be  somewhat 
of  an  old  story,  and  Belle  had  long  since  voted  it  dull. 

"  Well,  Nan,  we've  come  down  to  two  rooms  in  very 
truth,  and  in  an  old,  old  house,  too,  that  will  remind  you  of 
some  of  the  oldest  in  the  South, ' '  and  he  drew  such  a  humor 
ous  and  forlorn  picture  of  their  future  abode  that  his  wife  felt 
that  he  had  indeed  taken  her  at  her  word,  and  that  they  would 
scarcely  have  a  place  to  lay  their  heads,  much  less  to  live  in 
any  proper  sense  ;  and  when  she  stopped  before  the  quaint 
and  decrepit  house  without  any  front  door  ;  when  she  fol 
lowed  her  husband  up  the  forlorn  stairway  to  what  seemed 
a  side  entrance  with  its  most  dismal  outlook,  she  believed 
that  the  time  for  fortitude  had  come,  in  bitter  truth.  The 
hall  was  dark  to  her  sun-blinded  eyes,  as  it  had  been  to  Mil 
dred's,  yet  not  so  dark  but  that  she  saw  doors  open  and  felt 
herself  scanned  with  an  unblushing  curiosity  by  slattern-look 
ing  women,  her  near  neighbors,  and  the  thought  that  they 
were  so  very  near  made  her  shiver.  As  for  Belle,  she  did 
not  take  pains  to  hide  her  disgust.  With  a  sinking  heart  and 
faltering  courage  the  poor  gentlewoman  mounted  the  winding 
stairs,  but  before  she  reached  the  top  there  was  a  rush  from 
an  open  doorway,  and  Mildred  clasped  her  in  close  embrace. 

"  Welcome  home  !"  she  cried,  in  her  clear,  sweet,  girlish 
voice. 

"  Home,  Millie  !  what  a  mockery  that  word  is  in  this 
strange,  strange  place  !"  she  half  whispered,  half  sobbed  in 
her  daughter's  ear. 

"  Courage,  mamma.  We  promised  papa  we'd  ask  noth 
ing  better  than  he  could  afford,"  Mildred  murmured. 


"WELCOME  HOME."  157 

'*  Don't  let  him  see  tears — he  has  already  put  Fred  down 
and  is  turning  to  welcome  you  to  the  best  home  he  can 
offer." 

Had  the  rooms  been  cells  only,  with  but  a  pallet  of  straw 
upon  the  floors,  Mrs.  Jocelyn  would  have  responded  to  that 
appeal,  and  she  stepped  forward  resolved  to  smile  and  appear 
pleased  with  everything,  no  matter  how  stifled  she  might  feel 
for  want  of  space,  air,  and  light 

But  when  she  crossed  the  threshold  into  the  spacious,  sun- 
lighted  room,  and  looked  up  at  the  high  ceiling  and  across 
its  wide  area  ;  when  she  had  glanced  around  and  seen  on 
every  side  the  results  of  the  strong  spells  laid  upon  stout  Mrs. 
Wheaton  by  Mildred's  domestic  magic,  and  the  dainty 
touches  with  which  the  solid  work  had  been  supplemented, 
her  face  lighted  up  with  a  sweet  surprise. 

"  Oh,  oh,  how  much  better  this  is  than  you  led  me  to 
expect !  Is  all  this  really  ours  ?  Can  we  afford  so  large  a 
room  ?  Here  are  the  dear  old  things,  too,  with  which  I  first 
went  to  housekeeping. "  Then  stepping  to  her  husband's  side 
she  put  her  arm  around  his  neck  as  she  looked  into  his  eyes 
and  said,  ' '  Martin,  this  is  home.  Thank  God,  it  is  home 
like  after  all.  With  you  and  the  children  around  me  I  can 
be  more  than  content — I  can  be  very  happy  in  this  place.  I 
feared  that  we  might  be  too  crowded,  and  that  the  children 
might  suffer." 

"  Of  course  you  didn't  think  of  yourself,  Nan.  Millie's 
the  good  fairy  to  thank  for  all  this.  The  way  she  and  an 
other  female  divinity  have  conjured  in  these  rooms  the  last 
three  days  is  a  matter  wholly  beyond  the  masculine  mind." 

' '  Father  did  a  great  deal,  too,  and  did  it  much  better  than 
you  could  expect  from  a  man.  But,  come,  I'm  mistress  of 
this  small  fraction  of  the  venerable  mansion  till  after  break 
fast,  and  then,  mamma,  I'  11  put  the  baton  of  rule  in  your 
hands.  I've  burned  my  fingers  and  spoiled  my  complexion 


158  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

over  the  stove,  and  I  don't  intend  that  a  cold  breakfast  shall 
be  the  result. ' ' 

"  Millie,"  cried  Belle,  rushing  out  of  the  second  room, 
which  she  had  inspected  in  her  lightning-like  way  before 
greeting  her  sister,  ' '  our  room  is  lovely.  You  are  a  gem, 
an  onyx,  a  fickle  wild  rose.  It's  all  splendid — a  perpetual 
picnic  place,  to  which  we' 11  bring  our  own  provisions  and 
cook  'em  our  own  way.  No  boss  biddies  in  this  establish 
ment.  It's  ever  so  much  better  than  I  expected  after  you 
once  get  here  ;  but  as  the  hymn  goes,  '  How  dark  and  dismal 
is  the  way  !  ' 

It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  children,  wild  over  the  nov 
elty  of  it  all,  could  be  settled  quietly  at  the  table.  It  was 
the  family's  first  rneal  in  a  tenement-house.  The  father's 
eyes  grew  moist  as  he  looked  around  his  board  and  said,  deep 
in  his  heart,  ' '  Never  did  a  sweeter,  fairer  group  grace  a  table 
in  this  house,  although  it  has  stood  more  than  a  century.  If 
for  their  sakes  I  cannot  be  a  man — ' ' 

"  Martin,"  began  his  wife,  her  delicate  features  flushing  a 
little,  ' '  before  we  partake  of  this  our  first  meal  I  want  you 
all  to  join  me  in  your  hearts  while  I  say  from  the  depths  of 
mine,  God  bless  our  home." 

An  hour  later,  as  he  went  down-town,  Mr.  Jocelyn  finished 
his  sentence.  ' '  If  for  the  sake  of  such  a  wife  and  such  chil 
dren  I  cannot  stop,  I'  m  damned. ' ' 


BELLE  AND  MILDRED.  159 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

BELLE     AND     MILDRED. 

THE  cosmopolitan  bachelor  living  in  apartments  knows 
far  more  of  Sanskrit  than  of  a  domestic  woman's  feel 
ings  as  she  explores  the  place  she  must  call  her  home.  It 
may  be  a  palace  or  it  may  be  but  two  rooms  in  a  decaying 
tenement,  but  the  same  wistful,  intent  look  will  reveal  one  of 
the  deepest  needs  of  her  nature.  Eve  wept  not  so  much  for 
the  loss  of  Eden  as  for  the  loss  of  home — the  familiar  place 
whose  homeliest  objects  had  become  dear  from  association. 
The  restless  woman  who  has  no  home-hunger,  no  strong 
instinct  to  make  a  place  which  shall  be  a  refuge  for  herself 
and  those  she  loves,  is  not  the  woman  God  created.  She  is 
the  product  of  a  sinister  evolution  ;  she  is  akin  to  the  birds 
that  will  not  build  nests,  but  take  possession  of  those  already 
constructed,  ousting  the  rightful  occupants. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  were  unperverted  ;  they  were 
womanly  in  every  fibre,  and  the  interest  with  which  they 
planned,  consulted,  and  dwelt  upon  each  detail  of  their  small 
household  economy  is  beyond  my  power  to  interpret.  They 
could  have  made  the  stateliest  mansion  in  the  city  homelike  ; 
they  did  impart  to  their  two  poor  rooms  the  essential  ele 
ments  of  a  home.  It  was  a  place  which  no  one  could  enter 
without  involuntary  respect  for  the  occupants,  although  aware 
of  nothing  concerning  them  except  their  poverty. 

"  Mrs.  Atwood  and  Susan  actually  cried  when  we  came  to 


160  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

go,"  Mrs.  Jocelyn  remarked  as  they  were  all  busy  together, 
"  and  even  old  Mr.  Atwood  was  wonderfully  good  for  him. 
He  and  Roger  put  a  great  many  harvest  apples  and  vegeta 
bles  in  a  large  box,  and  Mrs.  Atwood  added  a  jar  of  her  nice 
butter,  some  eggs,  and  a  pair  of  chickens.  I  told  them  that 
we  must  begin  life  again  in  a  very  humble  way,  and  they  just 
overflowed  with  sympathy  and  kindness,  and  I  could  scarcely 
induce  them  to  take  any  money  for  the  last  week  we  were 
there.  It  was  funny  to  see  old  Mr.  Atwood  :  he  wanted  the 
money  dreadfully — any  one  could  see  that,  for  a  dollar  is  dear 
to  his  heart — but  he  also  wanted  to  be  generous  like  his 
wife,  and  to  show  his  strong  good-will.  They  sent  heaps  of 
love  to  you,  Millie,  and  cordially  invited  us  to  visit  them 
next  summer  ;  they  also  offered  to  board  us  again  for  just  as 
little  as  they  could  afford.  Even  Jotham  appeared  to  have 
something  on  his  mind,  for  he  was  as  helpful  as  an  elephant, 
and  stood  around,  and  stood  around,  but  at  last  went  off 
muttering  to  himself." 

"  Millie,"  said  Belle  indignantly,  "  I  think  you  treated 
Roger  shamefully.  After  we  returned  from  seeing  you  off, 
mamma  and  I  went  mooning  up  to  that  hill  of  yours  looking 
toward  the  south,  because  you  and  papa  were  in  that  direc 
tion.  Suddenly  we  came  upon  Roger  sitting  there  with  his 
face  buried  in  his  hands.  '  Are  you  ill  ? '  mamma  asked,  as 
if  his  trouble  might  have  been  a  stomach-ache.  He  started 
up  and  looked  white  in  the  moonlight.  '  She  was  cruel, '  he 
said  passionately  ;  '  I  only  asked  for  friendship.  I  would 
have  given  my  life  for  her,  but  she  treated  Jotham  better  than 
she  did  me,  and  she  thinks  I'm  no  better  than  he  is — that 
I'm  one  of  the  farm  animals.'  '  Mr.  Atwood/  mamma 
began,  '  she  did  not  mean  to  be  cruel ' — he  interrupted  her 
with  an  impatient  gesture.  '  The  end  hasn't  come  yet,'  he 
muttered  and  stalked  away. ' ' 

Mildred  sat  down  with  a  little  perplexed  frown  upon  her 


BELLE  AND  MILDRED.  161 

face.  "I'm  sure  I  meant  him  only  kindness,"  she  said  ; 
"  why  will  he  be  so  absurd  ?" 

"  You  had  a  queer  way  of  showing  your  kindness,"  snap 
ped  Belle. 

' '  What  would  you  have  me  do  ?  Encourage  him  to 
leave  home,  and  all  sorts  of  folly  ?" 

"  You  can't  prevent  his  leaving  home.  Mark  my  words, 
he'll  soon  be  in  this  city,  and  he'll  make  his  way  too.  He's 
a  good  deal  more  of  a  man  than  your  lily-fingered  Mr. 
Arnold,  and  if  he  wants  to  be  friendly  to  me  and  take  me  out 
sometimes,  I  won't  have  him  snubbed.  Of  course  all  my 
old  friends  will  cut  me  dead. ' ' 

"  Oh,  if  he  will  transfer  his  devotion  to  you,  Belle,  I'll  be 
as  friendly  as  you  wish. ' ' 

"  No,  you've  spoiled  him  for  me  or  any  one  else.  He's 
fool  enough  to  think  there' snot  another  girl  in  the  world  but 
Mildred  Jocelyn,  and  he'll  get  you  if  you  don't  look  out,  for 
he  has  the  most  resolute  look  that  I  ever  saw  in  any  one's 
eyes.  The  day  before  we  came  away  something  happened 
that  took  away  my  breath.  A  man  brought  a  young  horse 
which  he  said  no  one  could  manage.  Roger  went"  out  and 
looked  into  the  beast' s  eyes,  and  the  vicious  thing  bit  at  him 
and  struck  at  him  with  his  forefoot  Then  as  he  tried  to 
stroke  his  back  he  kicked  up  with  both  hind  feet.  Oh,  he 
was  a  very  Satan  of  a  horse,  and  they  had  a  rope  around  his 
head  that  would  have  held  a  ship.  Roger  went  and  got  what 
he  called  a  curb-bit,  and  almost  in  a  twinkling  he  had  slipped 
it  on  the  horse,  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  he  sprang 
upon  his  bare  back.  The  horse  then  reared  so  that  I 
thought  he'd  fall  over  backward  on  Roger.  Mamma  fairly 
looked  faint—it  was  right  after  dinner — Susan  and  the  chil 
dren  were  crying,  his  father  and  mother,  and  even  the  owner 
of  the  horse,  were  calling  to  him  to  get  off,  but  he  merely 
pulled  one  rein  sharply,  and  down  the  horse  came  on  his 


1 62  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

four  feet  again.  Instead  of  looking  frightened  he  was  coolly 
fastening  the  rope  so  as  to  have  it  out  of  the  way.  After  let 
ting  the  ugly  beast  rear  and  plunge  and  kick  around  in  the 
road  a  few  minutes,  Roger  turned  his  head  toward  a  stone 
wall  that  separated  the  road  from  a  large  pasture  field  that 
was  full  of  cows,  and  he  went  over  the  fence  with  a  flying 
leap,  at  which  we  all  screamed  and  shouted  again.  Then 
away  they  went  round  and  round  that  field,  the  cows, 
with  their  tails  in  the  air,  careering  about  also,  as  much 
excited  as  we  were.  At  last,  when  the  horse  found  he 
couldn't  throw  him,  he  lay  down  and  rolled.  Roger 
was  off  in  a  second,  and  then  sat  on  the  beast's  head  for 
a  while  so  he  couldn't  get  up  when  he  wanted  to.  At 
last  he  let  the  brute  get  up  again,  but  he  was  no  sooner  on 
his  feet  than  Roger  was  on  his  back,  and  away  they  went 
again  till  the  horse  was  all  in  a  foam,  and  Roger  could  guide 
him  easily  with  one  hand.  He  then  leaped  the  tamed  creature 
back  into  the  road,  and  came  trotting  quietly  to  the  kitchen 
door.  Springing  lightly  down,  and  with  one  arm  over  the  pant 
ing  horse's  neck,  he  said  quietly,  '  Sue,  bring  me  two  or  three 
lumps  of  sugar. '  The  horse  ate  them  out  of  his  hand,  and 
then  followed  him  around  like  a  spaniel.  His  owner  was 
perfectly  carried  away  ;  '  Jerusalem  !  '  he  exclaimed,  '  I've 
never  seen  the  beat  of  that.  I  offered  you  twenty-five  dollars 
if  you  would  break  him,  and  I'll  make  it  thirty  if  at  the  end 
of  a  month  you'll  train  him  to  saddle  and  harness.  He 
wasn'  t  worth  a  rap  till  you  took  him  in  hand. '  '  It' s  a  bar 
gain/  said  Roger  coolly,  and  then  he  whispered  to  me, 
'  That  will  buy  me  a  pile  of  books.'  That's  the  kind  of  a 
man  that  I  believe  in,"  concluded  Belle,  nodding  her  head 
emphatically,  ' '  and  I  want  you  to  understand  that  Roger 
Atwood  and  I  are  very  good  friends. ' ' 

Mildred  meditatively   bit   her  lip,   and   her  cheeks   had 
flushed  with  excitement  at  Belle's  story,  but  she  would  make 


BELLE  AND  MILDRED.  163 

no  comment  upon  it  in  words.  "  What  does  he  want  with 
so  many  books  ?"  she  asked,  after  a  moment 

' '  You'  11  see  before  you  are  gray. ' ' 

"  Indeed  !  has  he  taken  you  into  his  confidence,  also?" 

"  That's  my  affair.  I  believe  in  him,  and  so  will  you 
some  day.  He  already  knows  more  Latin  than  you  do." 

"  That's  not  saying  a  great  deal,"  replied  Mildred,  with  a 
short,  vexed  laugh.  "  How  came  he  to  know  Latin  ?" 

' '  He  studied  it  at  school  as  you  did.  The  fact  is,  you  are 
so  prejudiced  you  know  nothing  about  him.  He's  strong 
and  brave,  and  he'll  do  what  he  attempts." 

"  He'll  find  that  I  am  strong,  too,  in  my  way,"  said  Mil 
dred  coldly.  ' '  He  said  something  that  hurt  me  more  than 
I  hurt  him,  and  all  I  ask  of  him  is  to  leave  me  alone.  I 
wish  him  well,  and  all  that,  but  we  are  not  congenial.  Com 
plete  success  in  his  wild  ambition  wouldn't  make  any  differ 
ence.  He  ought  to  remain  at  home  and  take  care  of  his 
own  people." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  he's  coming  to  New  York,  and  I  hope 
for  my  sake  you'll  treat  him  politely." 

"  Oh,  certainly  for  your  sake,  Belle.  Let  us  all  stick  to 
that." 

"  Belle's  a  mere  child,"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  with  her  low 
laugh. 

"I'm  sixteen  years  old,  I  thank  you  ;  that  is,  I  shall  be 
soon  ;  and  I  know  a  real  man  from  the  ghost  of  one. ' ' 

"Belle,"  cried  Mildred,  in  a  tone  she  rarely  used,  "I 
will  neither  permit  nor  pardon  any  such  allusions." 

"Come,  girls,"  expostulated  their  mother,  "our  nest  is 
too  small  for  any  disagreements,  and  we  have  a  great  deal  too 
much  to  do  for  such  useless  discussions.  I'm  sorry  with 
Millie  that  Roger  is  bent  on  leaving  home,  for  I  think  his 
parents  need  him,  and  he  could  do  well  in  the  country.  Thtt 
city  is  too  crowded  already." 


*64  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  He'll  make  his  way  through  the  crowd,"  persisted  Belle. 

"  Does  his  father  or  mother  know  of  his  plans  ?" 

"  Well,  to  tell  the  truth,  I  don't  know  very  much  about 
his  plans.  He  talks  little  concerning  himself,  but  when  he 
took  me  out  to  drive  the  day  after  Millie  left,  he  said  he  had 
decided  to  come  to  New  York  and  get  an  education,  and  that 
if  I'd  let  him  know  where  we  lived  he'd  come  and  see  me 
occasionally.  I  said,  '  What  will  they  do  at  home  without 
you  ? '  and  he  replied,  '  I  can  do  more  for  them  away  from 
home  by  and  by  than  here. '  Now,  mamma,  you'  11  let  him 
come  to  see  me,  won't  you  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Belle.  I'll  be  reasonable  in  this  respect.  I 
know  young  people  need  company  and  recreation.  My  only 
aim  has  ever  been  to  secure  you  and  Millie  good  company, 
and  I  hope  your  love  for  me,  Belle,  will  lead  you  to  shun 
any  other.  As  we  are  now  situated  you  must  be  very,  very 
cautious  in  making  new  acquaintances.  Young  Mr.  Atwood 
is  a  good,  honest-hearted  fellow,  and  I  think  Millie  is  a  little 
prejudiced  against  him." 

"  Very  well,  mamma,  I'll  be  all  smiles  so  long  as  he  de 
votes  himself  to  Belle  ;  but  he  must  stop  there  most  em 
phatically.  ' ' 

Thus  with  busy  tongues  and  busier  hands  they  talked  of 
the  past  and  the  future  while  they  unpacked  and  stowed  away 
their  belongings  with  almost  the  same  economy  of  space  tha ; 
is  practised  on  shipboard.  Mrs.  Wheaton  was  introduced, 
and  she  at  once  became  a  fast  ally  of  Mrs.  Jocelyn  as  well 
as  of  Mildred. 

"  I  'ope  yer' 11  halways  remember  yer  'ave  a  neighbor  that's 
'andy  and  villing,"  she  said,  as  she  courtesied  herself  out. 
"  Hit's  too  bad,"  she  muttered,  on  her  way  back  to  her 
room,  "  that  she's  'ad  to  come  down  to  this,  for  she's  a  born 
lady  ;  she's  has  much  a  lady  as  hany  'oo  howned  this  'or.se 
a  'undred  years  hago." 


BELLE  AND  MILDRED.  165 

Thus  their  life  began  in  the  old  mansion,  and  from  its 
humble  shelter  they  looked  abroad  to  see  what  they  could 
obtain  from  the  great  indifferent  world  without. 

"  Belle  and  I  must  not  be  idle  an  hour  longer  than  we  can 
not  help,"  said  Mildred  resolutely,  on  the  following  day; 
"  and  the  only  thing  is  to  find  what  it  would  be  best  to  do.  I 
am  going  out  to  try  to  sell  the  work  I  did  in  the  country,  and 
see  if  I  cannot  get  orders  for  more  of  the  same  kind.  My 
great  hope  is  that  I  can  work  at  home.  I  wish  I  knew 
enough  to  be  a  teacher,  but  like  all  the  rest  I  know  a  little 
of  everything,  and  not  much  of  anything.  Fancy  work  will 
be  my  forte,  if  I  can  only  sell  it.  I  do  hope  I  sha'  n'  t  meet 
any  one  I  know, ' '  and  heavily  veiled  she  took  her  way  with 
her  dainty  fabrics  toward  the  region  of  fashionable  shops. 
Those,  however,  who  were  willing  to  buy  offered  her  so  little 
that  she  was  discouraged,  and  she  finally  left  the  articles  at  a 
store  whose  proprietor  was  willing  to  receive  them  on  com 
mission. 

"  You  must  not  calculate  on  speedy  sale,"  the  lady  in 
charge  remarked.  ' '  People  are  very  generally  out  of  town 
yet,  and  will  be  for  some  time.  Your  work  is  pretty,  how 
ever,  and  will  sell,  I  think,  later  on,  although  in  these  hard 
times  useful  articles  are  chiefly  in  demand." 

' '  Please  do  your  best  for  me, ' '  said  Mildred  appealingly, 
"and  please  let  me  know  what  you  think  will  sell.  I'm 
willing  to  do  any  kind  of  work  I  can  that  will  bring  the 
money  we  need."  After  receiving  some  suggestions  she 
bought  more  material,  and  then  sat  down  to  work  in  the  hope 
that  the  returning  citizens  would  purchase  her  articles  so 
liberally  that  she  could  do  her  share  toward  the  family's 
support. 

She  did  not  shrink  from  labor,  but  with  the,  false  pride  so 
general  she  did  shrink  morbidly  from  meeting  those  who 
knew  her  in  the  past,  and  from  their  learning  where  and  how 


l66  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

she  lived.  She  was  wholly  bent  on  seclusion  until  their  for 
tunes  were  greatly  mended,  fondly  hoping  that  her  father 
would  rally  such  a  constituency  from  his  Southern  acquaint 
ance  that  he  would  soon  command  a  fine  salary.  And  the 
expectation  was  not  an  unreasonable  one,  had  Mr.  Jocelyn 
been  able  to  work  with  persistent  energy  for  a  few  years. 
The  South  was  impoverished,  and  while  a  remunerative  trade 
might  be  built  up  from  it,  patient  and  exceedingly  aggressive 
labor  would  be  required  to  secure  such  a  result.  It  is  the 
curse  of  opium,  however,  to  paralyze  energy,  and  to  render 
all  effort  fitful  and  uncertain.  He  should  have  written  scores 
of  letters  daily,  and  attended  to  each  commission  with  the 
utmost  promptness  and  care,  but  there  were  times  when 
the  writing  of  a  single  letter  was  a  burden,  and  too  often  it 
was  vague  and  pointless  like  the  condition  of  his  mind  when 
it  was  written.  Mildred  did  not  dream  of  this,  and  his  em 
ployers  felt  that  they  must  give  him  time  before  expecting 
very  much  return  for  his  effort.  Since  he  attended  to  rou 
tine  duties  fairly  well  there  was  no  cause  for  complaint, 
although  something  in  his  manner  often  puzzled  them  a  little. 
It  was  Mildred's  belief  that  renewed  prosperity  would  soon 
enable  them  to  live  in  a  way  entitling  them  to  recognition  in 
the  society  to  which  Arnold  belonged.  If  thus  much  could 
be  accomplished  she  felt  that  her  own  and  her  lover's  faith 
fulness  would  accomplish  the  rest.  They  were  both  young, 
and  could  afford  to  wait. 

"  The  world  brings  changes  for  the  better  sometimes, "  she 
thought,  as  she  plied  her  needle,  "  as  well  as  for  the  worse  ; 
and  no  matter  what  his  proud  mother  thinks,  I'm  sure  I 
could  take  better  care  of  him  than  she  can.  Whether  they 
know  it  or  not,  the  course  of  his  family  toward  him  is  one  of 
cold-blooded  cruelty  and  repression.  If  he  could  live  in  a 
genial,  sunny  atmosphere  of  freedom,  affection,  and  respect, 
his  manhood  would  assert  itself,  he  would  grow  stronger, 


BELLE  AND  MILDRED.  167 

and  might  do  as  much  in  his  way  as  Roger  Atwood  ever  can 
in  his.  He  has  a  fine  mind  and  a  brilliant  imagination  ; 
but  he  is  chilled,  embittered,  and  fettered  by  being  constantly 
reminded  of  his  weakness  and  dependence  ;  and  now  posi 
tive  unhappiness  is  added  to  his  other  misfortunes,  although 
I  think  my  little  note  will  do  him  no  harm' '  — she  dreamed 
that  it  might  be  carried  next  to  his  heart  instead  of  moulder 
ing  where  the  faithless  Jotham  had  dropped  it.  "I  shall  not 
punish  him  for  his  family's  harsh  pride,  from  which  he  suffers 
even  more  than  I  do.  Turn,  turn,  fortune's  wheel  !  We 
are  down  now,  but  that  only  proves  that  we  must  soon  come 
up  again.  Being  poor  and  living  in  a  tenement  isn't  so 
dreadful  as  I  feared,  and  we  can  stand  it  for  a  while.  As 
stout  Mrs.  Wheaton  says,  '  There's  vorse  troubles  hin  the 
vorld. '  Now  that  we  know  and  have  faced  the  worst  we  can 
turn  our  hopes  and  thoughts  toward  the  best." 

Poor  child  !     It  was  well  the  future  was  veiled. 

The  mode  of  Belle' s  activity  was  a  problem,  but  that  incip 
ient  young  woman  practically  decided  it  herself.  She  was 
outspoken  in  her  preference. 

"  I  don't  want  to  work  cooped  up  at  home,"  she  said. 
"  I'd  go  wild  if  I  had  to  sit  and  stitch  all  day.  School  half 
killed  me,  although  there  was  always  some  excitement  to  be 
had  in  breaking  the  rules." 

"  Naughty  Belle  !"  cried  her  mother. 

"  Never  naughty  when  you  coax,  mamma.  I'd  have  been 
a  saint  if  they'd  only  taken  your  tactics  with  me,  but  they 
didn't  know  enough,  thank  fortune,  so  I  had  my  fun.  If 
they  had  only  looked  at  me  as  you  do,  and  put  me  on-  my 
honor,  and  appealed  to  my  better  feelings  and  all  that,  and 
laughed  with  me  and  at  me  now  and  then,  I'd  been  fool 
enough  to  have  kept  every  rule.  You  always  knew, 
mamma,  just  how  to  get  me  right  under  your  thumb,  in  spite 
of  myself." 


1 68  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  I  hope  I  may  always  keep  you  there,  my  darling,  in 
spite  of  this  great  evil  world,  out  into  which  you  wish  to  go. 
It  is  not  under  my  thumb,  Belle,,  but  under  my  protecting 
wing  that  I  wish  to  keep  you." 

"  Dear  little  mother,"  faltered  the  warm-hearted  girl,  her 
eyes  filling  with  tears,  "  don't  you  see  I've  grown  to  be  too 
big  a  chicken  to  be  kept  under  your  wing  ?  I  must  go  out 
and  pick  for  myself,  and  bring  home  a  nice  morsel  now  and 
then  for  the  little  mother,  too.  Yes,  I  admit  that  I  want 
to  go  out  into  the  world.  I  want  to  be  where  everything  is 
bright  and  moving.  It's  my  nature,  and  what's  the  use  of 
fighting  nature  ?  You  and  Millie  can  sit  here  like  two  doves 
billing  and  cooing  all  day.  I  must  use  my  wings.  I'd  die 
in  a  cage,  even  though  the  cage  was  home.  But  never  fear, 
I'll  come  back  to  it  every  night,  and  love  it  in  my  way  just 
as  much  as  you  do  in  yours.  You  must  put  me  in  a  store, 
mamma,  where  there  are  crowds  of  people  going  and 
coming.  They  won't  do  me  any  more  harm  than  when  I 
used  to  meet  them  in  the  streets,  but  they'  11  amuse  me.  My 
eyes  and  hands  will  be  busy,  and  I  won't  die  from  moping. 
I've  no  more  education  than  a  kitten,  but  shop-girls  are  not 
expected  to  know  the  dead  languages,  and  I  can  talk  my 
own  fast  enough. ' ' 

"  Indeed  you  can  !"  cried  Mildred. 

"  But,  Belle,"  said  her  mother,  who  was  strongly  in 
clined  toward  Mildred's  idea  of  seclusion  until  fortune's 
wheel  had  turned,  "  how  will  you  like  to  have  it  known  in 
after  years  that  you  were  a  shop-girl  ?' ' 

'.'  Yes,"  added  Mildred,  "  you  may  have  to  wait  on  some 
whom  you  invited  to  your  little  company  last  spring.  I 
wish  you  could  find  something  to  do  that  would  be  quiet 
and  secluded." 

"Oh,  nonsense!"  cried  Belle  impatiently.  "  We  can't 
hide  like  bears  that  go  into  hollow  trees  and  suck  their  paws 


BELLE  AND  MILDRED.  169 

for  half  a  dozen  years,  more  or  less" — Belle's  zoological 
ideas  were  startling  rather  than  accurate — "  I  don't  want  to 
hide  and  cower.  Why  should  we  ?  We've  done  nothing 
we  need  be  ashamed  of.  Father' s  been  unfortunate ;  so 
have  hundreds  and  thousands  of  other  men  m  these  hard 
times.  Roger  showed  me  an  estimate,  cut  from  a  news 
paper,  of  how  many  had  failed  during  the  last  two  or  three 
years — why  it  was  an  army  of  men.  We  ain'  t  alone  in  our 
troubles,  and  Roger  said  that  those  who  cut  old  acquaint 
ances  because  they  had  been  unfortunate  were  contemptible 
snobs,  and  the  sooner  they  were  found  out  the  better  ;  and 
I  want  to  find  out  my  score  or  two  of  very  dear  friends  who 
have  eaten  ice-cream  at  our  house.  I  hope  I  may  have  a 
chance  to  wait  on  'em.  I'll  do  it  with  the  air  of  a  princess," 
she  concluded,  assuming  a  preternatural  dignity,  ' '  and  if 
they  put  on  airs  I'll  raise  the  price  of  the  goods,  and  tell 
them  that  since  they  are  so  much  above  other  people  they 
ought  to  pay  double  price  for  everything.  I  don't  believe 
they'll  all  turn  up  their  noses  at  me,"  she  added,  after  a 
moment,  her  face  becoming  wistful  and  gentle  in  its  expres 
sion  as  she  recalled  some  favorites  whose  whispered  confi 
dences  and  vows  of  eternal  friendship  seemed  too  recent  to 
be  meaningless  and  empty. 

The  poor  child  would  soon  learn  that,  although  school 
girls'  vows  are  rarely  false,  they  are  usually  as  fragile  and 
transient  as  harebells.  She  had  dropped  into  a  different 
world,  and  the  old  one  would  fade  like  a  receding  star.  She 
would  soon  find  that  her  only  choice  must  be  to  make  new 
associations  and  friendships  and  find  new  pleasures  ;  and  this 
her  mercurial,  frank,  and  fearless  nature  would  incline  her  to 
do  very  promptly. 

With  Mildred  it  was  different.  The  old  life  was  almost 
essential  to  her,  and  it  contained  everything  that  her  heart 
most  craved. 


1 70  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Her  courage  was  not  Belle's  natural  and  uncalculating  in 
trepidity.  She  would  go  wherever  duty  required  her  pres 
ence,  she  would  sacrifice  herself  for  those  she  loved,  and  she 
was  capable  of  martyrdom  for  a  faith  about  as  free  from  doc 
trinal  abstractions  as  the  simple  allegiance  of  the  sisters  of 
Bethany  to  the  Christ  who  "  loved  "  them.  Notwithstanding 
the  truth  of  all  this,  it  has  already  been  shown  that  she  was  a 
very  human  girl.  Brave  and  resolute  she  could  be,  but  she 
would  tremble  and  escape  if  possible.  Especially  would  she 
shrink  from  anything  tending  to  wound  her  womanly  deli 
cacy  and  a  certain  trace  of  sensitive  Southern  pride.  Above 
all  things  she  shrank  from  that  which  threatened  her  love. 
This  was  now  her  life,  and  its  absorbing  power  colored  all  her 
thoughts  and  plans.  Both  conscience  and  reason,  however, 
convinced  her  that  Belle  was  right,  and  that  the  only  chance 
for  the  vigorous,  growing  girl  was  some  phase  of  active  life. 
With  her  very  limited  attainments,  standing  behind  a  counter 
seemed  the  only  opening  that  the  family  would  consider,  and 
it  was  eventually  agreed  upon,  after  a  very  reluctant  consent 
from  her  father. 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF.  171 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

BELLE   LAUNCHES   HERSELF. 

ONLY  the  least  of  Belle's  difficulties  were  past  when  she 
obtained  consent  to  stand  behind  a  counter.  With 
her  mother  she  made  many  a  weary  expedition  through  the 
hot  streets,  and  was  laughed  at  in  some  instances  for  even 
imagining  that  employment  could  be  obtained  at  the  dullest 
season  of  the  year.  As  soon  as  their  errand  was  made  known 
they  were  met  by  a  brief  and  often  a  curt  negative.  Mrs. 
Jocelyn  would  soon  have  been  discouraged,  but  Belle's  black 
eyes  only  snapped  with  irritation  at  their  poor  success. 
' '  Give  up  ?' '  she  cried.  ' '  No,  not  if  I  have  to  work  for 
nothing  to  get  a  chance.  Giving  up  isn't  my  style,  at  least 
not  till  I'm  tired  of  a  thing  ;  besides  it's  a  luxury  poof 
people  can't  indulge  in." 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  felt  that  the  necessity  which  compelled  this 
quest  was  a  bitter  one,  and  her  heart  daily  grew  sorer  that 
she  had  not  resolutely  saved  part  of  every  dollar  earned  by 
her  husband  in  the  old  prosperous  times.  As  she  saw  the 
poor  young  creatures  standing  wearily,  and  often  idly  and 
listlessly,  through  the  long  summer  days,  as  her  woman's 
eyes  detected  in  the  faces  of  many  the  impress  of  the  pain 
they  tried  to  conceal  but  could  never  forget,  she  half  guessed 
that  few  laborers  in  the  great  city  won  their  bread  more  hardly 
than  these  slender  girls,  doomed  in  most  instances  never  to 
know  a  vigorous  and  perfected  womanhood.  "  Belle,  mv 


1 7  2  WITHO  UT  A  HOME. 

child,  how  can  you  stand  during  these  long,  hot  days  ?     It's 
providential  that  we  can't  find  any  place." 

' '  Well,  mamma,  I'  m  not  very  well  up  in  the  ways  of 
Providence.  I  fear  the  dull  season  has  more  to  do  with  it. 
Nevertheless  I'm  going  to  make  a  situation  if  I  can't  find 
one. ' ' 

She  had  in  her  mind  a  shop  on  Sixth  Avenue,  which  had 
the  appearance  of  a  certain  "  go  and  life,"  as  she  phrased  it. 

"  There's  a  strong-willed,  wide-awake  man  back  of  that 
establishment, ' '  she  had  said  to  herself  more  than  once,  ' '  and 
if  I  could  get  at  him  I  believe  he'  d  give  me  work,  but  the 
hateful  old  foreman  stands  in  the  way  like  a  dragon. ' ' 

She  and  her  mother  had  been  curtly  informed  by  this  well- 
dressed  ' '  dragon, ' '  which  parted  its  hair  like  a  woman,  that 
"  there  was  no  use  in  bothering  the  proprietor  ;  he  never 
added  to  his  help  in  August — the  idea  was  absurd. 

One  morning  after  Mrs.  Jocelyn  had  about  given  up  the 
hope  of  obtaining  a  place  until  the  autumn  trade  revived — as 
far  as  it  would  revive  in  those  languid  years — Belle  started 
out  alone,  heavily  veiled,  and  with  her  purpose  also  veiled 
from  her  mother  and  Mildred.  She  went  straight  to  the 
shop  on  Sixth  Avenue  that  had  taken  her  fancy,  and  walked 
up  to  the  obnoxious  foreman  without  a  trace  of  hesitation. 
"  I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Schriven, "  she  said,  in  a  quiet,  decisive 
manner. 

"  He  is  very  busy,  madam,  and  does  not  like  to  be  dis 
turbed.  I  will  attend  to  anything  you  wish. ' ' 

"  Thank  you  ;  then  please  direct  me  to  the  proprietor's 
office  without  delay. ' ' 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  the  man  complied.  This 
veiled  presence  had  the  appearance  of  a  gentlewoman  and 
was  decided  in  manner.  Therefore  he  led  the  way  to  a  small 
private  office,  and  said,  "  A  lady,  sir,  who  insists  on  seeing 
you,"  and  then  discreetly  closed  the  door  and  departed. 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF.  i?3 

The  man  of  business  allowed  his  pen  to  glide  to  the  end 
of  his  sentence  before  turning  to  greet  his  visitor.  Belle  in 
the  mean  time  had  advanced  to  a  point  from  which  she 
could  look  directly  into  his  face,  for,  child  though  she  was, 
she  understood  that  it  was  her  difficult  task  first  to  obtain  a 
hearing,  and  then  to  disarm  his  anger  at  her  intrusion. 
Aware,  however,  that  she  had  nothing  to  lose  and  everything 
to  gain  by  the  adventure,  her  natural  fearlessness  and  quick 
ness  of  tongue  carried  her  through.  She  had  already  guessed 
that  an  appeal  for  employment,  even  the  most  pitiful,  would 
meet  with  a  flat,  prompt  refusal,  therefore  she  had  resolved 
on  different  tactics. 

At  last  the  man  lifted  his  head  in  his  quick,  imperious  way, 
asking,  as  he  turned  toward  her,  "  What  is  your  business  with 
me,  madam?" 

"  I  like  your  store  very  much,"  Belle  remarked  quietly. 

Mr.  Schriven  now  really  glanced  at  her,  and  he  found  her 
brilliant  black  eyes  and  fair  flushed  face  such  pleasing  ob 
jects  of  contemplation  that  he  was  content  to  look  for  a 
moment  while  he  puzzled  a  little  over  the  unexpected  appa 
rition.  He  then  smiled  satirically  and  said,  "  What  follows 
from  so  momentous  a  fact  ?' ' 

"  It  follows  that  I  would  rather  be  employed  here  than  in 
other  stores  that  I  do  not  like  so  well.  My  mother  and  I 
have  visited  nearly  every  one,  and  I  like  yours  best ' ' 

"  Well,  this  is  cool.  You  and  your  mother  were  refused 
employment  at  this  season  at  all  the  others,  were  you  net  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

' '  And  my  foreman  declined  your  services  here,  also,  did 
he  not  ?' ' 

"  Yes,  sir,  but  I  was  sure  that  if  I  saw  you  I  should  obtain 
my  wish.  There's  a  life  and  snap  abciit  this  place  that  I 
didn't  see  elsewhere,  and  therefore  I  knew  a  live  man,  and 


174  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

not  a  machine,  was  back  of  it,  and  that  if  I  could  see  and 
talk  with  him  he'd  give  me  a  chance." 

' '  You  are  exceedingly  flattering, ' '  said  the  man,  with  an 
other  satirical  smile.  ' '  Has  it  not  occurred  to  you  that  your 
course  is  just  tinged  with  assurance?" 

"  Have  I  said  or  done  anything  unbecoming  to  a  lady?" 
asked  Belle  indignantly. 

Mr.  Schriven  laughed  good-naturedly,  for  Belle's  snapping 
eyes  and  brusque  ways  were  beginning  to  interest  him. 
"  Oh,  I  forgot  that  you  American  working-women  are  all 
ladies.  I  am  told  that  you  speak  of  certain  of  your  number 
as  '  scrub-ladies '  and  '  washer-ladies. '  ' 

"  You  may  call  me  a  shop-girl,  sir,  as  soon  as  I  am  in 
your  employ." 

"  And  why  not  now  ?" 

' '  Because  I'  m  not  yet  a  shop-girl,  and  never  have  been 
one.  I've  often  bought  goods  with  my  mother  in  this  very 
store,  and  I  come  from  as  good  blood  as  there  is  in  the 
South.  A  few  months  ago  my  social  position  was  as  good  as 
yours,  and  now  that  we  have  been  unfortunate  and  I  must 
work,  I  see  no  presumption  in  asking  you  to  your  face  for 
honest  work. ' ' 

"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  young  lady,"  resumed  Mr.  Schri 
ven,  still  maintaining  his  half-amused,  half-ironical  manner, 
"  but  I  must  inform  you  that  I  cannot  afford  to  employ  my 
social  equals  as  shop-girls." 

"When  I  enter  your  employ  of  my  own  freewill,"  re 
sponded  Belle  promptly,  "  I  the  same  as  promise  to  obey 
all  the  rules  and  regulations  of  your  establishment,  and  I'll 
doit,  too.  What's  more,  I'll  sell  so  many  goods  in  dull 
times  and  all  times  that  you  can  well  afford  to  make  a  place 
for  me  if  you  have  none.  One  thing  is  certain — I'm  going 
to  get  work,  and  my  work  will  repay  those  who  employ  me 
a  hundred  times." 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF.  1 75 

"Well,  you  are  an  odd  fish,"  Mr.  Schriven  ejaculated; 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  you  are  not  yet  in  my  employ — you 
are  an  eccentric  young  lady,  and  a  very  young  one,  too,  to 
be  making  your  way  in  the  world  in  this  irresistible  style. 
You  mean  what  you  say,  that  if  employed  you  will  put  on 
no  airs  and  conform  to  rules  ?" 

"  I  mean  just  what  I  say." 

Mr.  Schriven  fell  into  a  foxy  fit  of  musing,  and  there  rose 
before  his  mind  the  pale  face  and  dragged,  weary,  listless  look 
of  a  girl  now  standing  at  the  ribbon  counter.  "  She'll  break 
down  when  hard  work  begins  again,"  he  thought;  "she's 
giving  way  now  with  nothing  much  to  do.  To  be  sure  she 
has  been  here  a  long  time,  and  has  done  her  best  and  all  that, 
but  her  day  is  past,  and  here's  plenty  of  young  flesh  and 
blood  to  fill  her  place.  This  one  is  rather  young,  but  she's 
smart  as  a  whip — she's  full  of  mettle  and  is  fresh  and  healthy- 
looking.  It  won't  do  to  have  pale  girls  around,  for  it  gives 
cursed  busybodies  a  chance  to  rant  about  women  standing  all 
day.  (Out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  measured  Belle  from 
head  to  foot. )  She  can  stand,  and  stand  it,  too,  for  a  long  while. 
She' s  compact  and  stout  She's  built  right  for  the  business. ' ' 
At  last  he  said,  aloud,  ' '  In  case  I  should  so  far  depart  from 
my  usual  custom  and  make  a  place  for  you,  as  you  suggest, 
what  do  you  propose  to  charge  for  the  services  you  rate  so 
highly  ?' ' 

"  What  you  choose  to  give." 

"  Well,"  was  the  laughing  answer,  "  there's  method  in 
your  madness.  Take  that  pen  and  write  what  I  dic 
tate.  ' ' 

Belle  wrote  a  few  sentences  in  a  dashing,  but  sufficiently 
legible  hand. 

"  You  will  have  to  practise  a  little,  and  aim  at  distinctness 
and  clearness.  That's  more  than  style  in  business,"  Mr. 
Schriven  continued  deliberately,  for  the  young  creature  was 


I76  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

so  delightfully  fresh  and  original  that  he  began  to  regard  he« 
as  an  agreeable  episode  in  the  dull  August  day.  "  I'll  make 
a  place  for  you,  as  you  say,  if  you  will  come  for  three  dollars 
a  week  and  comply  with  the  rules.  You  are  to  do  just  as 
you  are  bid  by  those  having  charge  of  your  department,  and 
you  had  better  keep  on  their  right  side.  You  are  not  to 
come  to  me  again,  remember,  unless  I  send  for  you,"  he 
concluded,  with  his  characteristic  smile ;  "an  event  that  you 
must  not  look  forward  to,  for  I  assure  you  such  interviews 
are  rare  in  my  experience.  Come  next  Monday  at  seven  if 
you  agree  to  these  conditions." 

"  I  agree,  and  I  thank  you,"  the  girl  promptly  answered, 
her  brilliant  eyes  glowing  with  triumph,  for  thoughts  like 
these  were  in  her  mind  :  "  How  I  can  crow  over  mamma 
and  Millie,  who  said  this  very  morning  there  was  no  use  in 
trying  !  Won't  it  be  delicious  to  hand  papa  enough  money 
to  pay  the  rent  for  a  month  !"  No  wonder  the  child's  face 
was  radiant. 

The  thoughts  of  her  employer  were  of  quite  a  different 
character.  He  gave  her  a  look  of  bold  admiration,  and  said 
familiarly,  "  By  Jupiter,  but  you  are  a  daisy  !" 

Belle's  manner  changed  instantly.  He  caught  a  swift, 
indignant  flash  in  her  dark  eyes,  and  then  she  laid  her  hand 
on  the  door-knob  and  said,  with  the  utmost  deference  and 
distance  of  manner,  "  I  will  try  to  attend  to  the  duties  of 
my  station  in  a  way  that  will  cause  no  complaint.  Good- 
morning,  sir." 

' '  Wait  a  moment, ' '  and  Mr.  Schriven  touched  a  bell,  and 
immediately  the  foreman  appeared. 

' '  Give  this  girl  a  place  next  Monday  ai  the  ribbon  coun 
ter,  ' '  he  said,  in  the  quick  staccato  tones  of  one  who  is  ab 
solute  and  saves  time  even  in  the  utterance  of  words.  "  I 
also  wish  to  see  you  two  hours  hence  " 

The  man  bowed,  as  if  all  were  a  matter  of  course,  but 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF.  177 

when  he  was  alone  with  Belle  he  said  sharply,  "  You  think 
you  got  ahead  of  me. ' ' 

He  would  indeed  have  been  the  most  malicious  of  dragons 
had  not  Belle's  smiling  face  and  frank  words  disarmed  him. 

"  I  did  get  ahead  of  you,  and  you  know  it,  but  you  are  too 
much  of  a  man  to  hold  a  grudge  against  a  poor  girl  who  has 
her  bread  to  earn.  Now  that  I  am  under  your  charge  I 
promise  that  I'  11  do  my  best  to  please  you. ' ' 

"  Very  well,  then  ;  we'll  see.  I'll  have  my  eye  on  you, 
and  don' t  you  forget  it ' ' 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  laughed,  sighed,  and  shook 
their  heads  over  Belle's  humorous  account  of  her  morning's 
adventure.  They  praised  her  motive,  they  congratulated  her 
on  her  success,  but  her  mother  said  earnestly,  "  My  dear 
little  girl,  don' t  get  bold  and  unwomanly.  We  had  all  bet 
ter  starve  than  come  to  that.  It  would  wound  me  to  the 
heart  if  your  manner  should  ever  cause  any  one  to  think  of 
you  otherwise  than  as  the  pure-hearted,  innocent  girl  that 
you  are.  But  alas  !  Belle,  the  world  is  too  ready  to  think 
evil.  You  don't  know  it  yet  at  all." 

She  knew  it  better  than  they  thought.  There  was  one 
phase  of  her  interview  with  Mr.  Schriven  that  she  had  not 
revealed,  well  knowing  that  her  gentle  mother  would  be  in 
exorable  in  her  decision  that  the  shop  must  not  even  be 
entered  again.  The  girl"  was  rapidly  acquiring  a  certain 
shrewd  hardihood.  She  was  not  given  to  sentiment,  and 
was  too  young  to  suffer  deeply  from  regret  for  the  past.  In 
deed  she  turned  buoyantly  toward  the  future,  while  at  the 
same  time  she  recognized  that  life  had  now  become  a  keen 
battle  among  others  in  like  condition. 

' '  I  don' t  intend  to  starve, ' '  she  said  to  herself,  ' '  nor  to 
bite  off  my  own  nose  because  the  world  is  not  just  what 
mother  and  Millie  think  it  ought  to  be.  Papa  would  be  in 
clined  to  break  that  man's  head  if  I  told  him  what  he  said 


1 78  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

and  how  he  looked.  But  what  would  come  of  it  ?  Papa 
would  go  to  jail  and  we  into  the  street.  Unless  papa  can 
get  up  in  the  world  again  very  fast,  Millie  and  I  shall  find  that 
we  have  got  to  take  care  of  ourselves  and  hold  our  tongues. 
I  hadn't  been  around  with  mamma  one  day  before  I 
learned  that  much.  Mamma  and  Millie  were  never  made  to 
be  working-women.  They  are  over-refined  and  high-toned, 
but  I  can't  afford  too  much  of  that  kind  of  thing  on  three 
dollars  a  week.  I'm  a  '  shop  lady ' — that's  the  kind  of  lady 
I'  m  to  be — and  I  must  come  right  down  to  what  secures  suc 
cess  without  any  nonsense. ' ' 

In  justice  it  should  be  said  that  Belle's  practical  acceptance 
of  the  situation  looked  forward  to  no  compromise  with  evil  ; 
but  she  had  seen  that  she  must  come  in  contact  with  the 
world  as  it  existed,  and  that  she  must  resolutely  face  the 
temptations  incident  to  her  lot  rather  than  vainly  seek  to 
escape  from  them.  Alas  !  her  young  eyes  had  only  caught  a 
faint  glimpse  of  the  influences  that  would  assail  her  untrained, 
half-developed  moral  nature.  Body  and  soul  would  be  taxed 
to  the  utmost  in  the  life  upon  which  she  was  entering. 

On  the  Sunday  following  Mr.  Jocelyn  slept  so  late  that 
none  of  the  family  went  to  church.  Indeed,  since  their  old 
relations  were  broken  up  they  scarcely  knew  where  to  go,  and 
Mildred  no  more  felt  that  she  could  return  to  the  fashionable 
temple  in  which  Mrs.  Arnold  worshipped  than  present  her 
self  at  the  elegant  mansion  on  Fifth  Avenue.  The  family 
spent  the  after  part  of  the  day  in  one  of  the  most  secluded 
nooks  they  could  find  in  Central  Park,  and  Mildred  often 
looked  back  upon  those  hours  as  among  the  brightest  in  the 
shrouded  past.  Mr.  Jocelyn  gauged  his  essential  stimulant 
so  well  that  he  was  geniality  itself  ;  Belle  was  more  exuberant 
than  usual  ;  Fred  and  Minnie  rejoiced  once  more  in  flowers 
and  trees  and  space  to  rim  Mrs.  Jocelyn' slow,  sweet  laugh 
was  hear4  again  and  again,  for  those  who  made  her  life  were 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF.  179 

all  around  her,  and  they  seemed  happier  than  they  had  been 
for  many  a  long,  weary  day.  For  a  brief  time  at  least  the 
sun  shone  brightly  through  a  rift  in  the  clouds  gathering 
ground  them. 

Beyond  the  fact  that  Belle  had  found  a  place,  little  was 
said  to  Mr.  Jocelyn,  for  the  subject  seemed  very  painful  to 
him,  and  the  young  girl  started  off  Monday  morning  in  high 
spirits.  The  foreman  met  her  in  a  curt,  business-like  way, 
and  assigned  her  to  her  place,  saying  that  the  girl  in  charge 
of  the  goods  would  tell  her  about  the  marks,  prices,  etc. 
This  girl  and  her  companions  received  Belle  very  coldly,  nor 
did  they  thaw  out  before  her  sunshine.  As  a  matter  both  of 
duty  and  interest  the  young  woman  upon  whom  the  task 
devolved  explained  all  that  was  essential  in  a  harsh,  con 
strained  voice,  and  the  others  ignored  the  new-comer  during 
business  hours.  Belle  paid  no  attention  to  them,  but  gave 
her  whole  mind  to  the  details  of  her  work,  making  rapid 
progress.  "  I'  11  have  time  for  them  by  and  by, ' '  she  mut 
tered,  ' '  and  can  manage  them  all  the  better  when  I  know  as 
much  as  they  do." 

She  saw,  too,  that  the  foreman  had  his  eye  upon  her  and 
her  companions,  so  she.  assumed  the  utmost  humility  and 
docility,  but  persisted  in  being  told  and  retold  all  she  wished 
to  know.  Since  she  observed  that  it  was  the  foreman's  eye 
and  not  good-will  which  constrained  the  cold,  unsympathetic 
instruction  received,  she  made  no  scruple  in  taxing  the  giver 
to  the  utmost. 

When  at  last  they  went  to  the  room  in  which  they  ate  theii 
lunch,  the  girls  treated  her  as  if  she  were  a  leper  ;  but  jusl 
to  spite  them  she  continued  as  serene  as  a  May  morning, 
either  acting  as  if  she  did  not  see  them  or  treating  them  as  if 
they  were  the  most  charming  young  women  she  had  ever 
met.  She  saw  with  delight  that  her  course  aggravated  them 
and  yet  gave  no  cause  for  complaint. 


l8o  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

As  soon  as  permitted  she  hastened  home,  and  was  glad  ta 
lie  down  all  the  evening  from  sheer  fatigue,  but  she  made 
light  of  her  weariness,  concealed  the  treatment  she  had  re 
ceived  from  the  girls,  and  the  dejection  it  was  beginning  to 
occasion  in  spite  of  her  courage  ;  she  even  made  the  little 
home  group  laugh  by  her  droll  accounts  of  the  day.  Then 
they  all  petted  and  praised  and  made  so  much  of  her  that 
her  spirits  rose  to  their  usual  height,  and  she  said  confidently, 
as  she  went  to  a  long  night's  rest,  "  Don't  you  worry,  little 
mother  ;  I  didn'  t  expect  to  get  broken  in  to  my  work  without 
a  backache. ' ' 

The  next  day  it  was  just  the  same,  but  Belle  knew  now 
what  to  charge  for  the  ribbons,  or,  if  she  was  not  sure,  the 
others  were  obliged,  under  the  eye  of  the  inexorable  foreman 
— who  for  some  reason  gave  this  counter  a  great  deal  of  at 
tention — to  tell  her  correctly,  so  she  began  to  lie  in  wait  for 
customers.  Some  came  to  her  of  their  own  accord,  and 
they  smiled  back  into  her  eager,  smiling  face. 

In  two  or  three  instances  her  intent  black  eyes  and  manner 
seemed  to  attract  attention  and  arrest  the  steps  of  those  who 
had  no  intention  of  stopping.  One  case  was  so  marked  that 
the  alert  foreman  drew  near  to  note  the  result.  An  elderly 
lady,  whose  eye  BeJle  had  apparently  caught  by  a  look  o( 
such  vivacity  and  interest  that  the  woman  almost  relt  that  she 
had  been  spoken  to,  came  to  the  girl,  saying,  "  Well,  my 
child,  what  have  you  that  is  pretty  to-day  ?" 

"  Just  what  will  please  you,  madam." 

"  You  please  me,  whether  your  ribbons  will  or  not  It's 
pleasant  for  a  customer  to  be  looked  at  as  if  she  were  not  a 
nuisance,"  she  added  significantly,  and  in  atone  that  Belle's 
companions,  with  their  cold,  impassive  faces,  could  not  fail 
to  hear.  ' '  You  may  pick  out  something  nice  for  one  ot  my 
little  granddaughters. 

Dimpling  with  smiles  and  pleasure,  Belle  obeyed. 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF,  181 

ing  that  the  eye  of  the  arbiter  of  their  fates  was  upon  them, 
the  young  women  near  might  have  been  statues  in  their  rigid 
attitudes.  Only  the  hot  blood  mounting  to  their  faces  betray 
ed  their  anger.  There  was  evidently  something  wrong  at 
the  ribbon  counter — something  repressed,  a  smouldering  and 
increasing  indignation,  a  suggestion  of  rebellion.  So  the 
foreman  evidently  thought,  from  his  frequent  appearances  ; 
so  the  floor-walker  clearly  surmised,  for  with  imperious 
glances  and  words  he  held  each  one  sternly  to  her  duty. 
Belle  was  smiling  and  working  in  the  midst  of  a  gathering 
storm,  and  she  was  becoming  conscious  of  it  So  far  from 
cowering,  her  indignation  was  fast  rising,  and  there  was  an 
ominous  glow  kindling  in  her  dark  eyes.  Their  seemingly 
unwarranted  hostility  and  jealousy  were  beginning  to  incense 
her.  She  believed  she  had  as  much  right  there  as  they  had, 
and  she  resolved  to  maintain  her  right  Catching  an  ireful 
glance  from  the  girl  in  charge  of  the  counter,  she  returned 
it  with  interest.  Even  this  spark  came  very  near  kindling 
the  repressed  fires  into  an  open  flame,  regardless  of  con 
sequences.  The  bread  of  these  girls  was  at  stake,  but 
women  are  not  calculating  when  their  feelings  are  deeply 
disturbed. 

At  last,  just  as  the  wretched  afternoon  was  ending,  and 
preparations  to  close  were  in  progress,  a  pale,  thin  girl,  with  a 
strange  and  rather  reckless  look,  came  in,  and,  sitting  down 
before  Belle,  fixed  her  gaunt  eyes  upon  her. 

' '  So  you  were  heartless  enough  to  take  my  place  away 
from  me  ?' '  she  said  slowly,  after  a  moment. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  answered  Belle  indig 
nantly. 

'  Yes,  you  do  know  what  she  means,  you  little  black 
snake  in  the  grass,"  whispered  one  of  the  girls  in  her  ear 
while  pretending  to  put  a  box  upon  the  shelf. 

Belle  whirled  upon  her  with  such  a  vivid  and  instantaneous 


182  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

flash  of  anger  that  the  girl  stepped  back  precipitately  and 
dropped  the  box. 

Just  at  this  moment  Mr.  Schriven,  in  the  act  of  departure, 
came  out  of  his  office  and  witnessed  the  whole  scene.  He 
stopped  and  smiled  broadly.  The  foreman  had  informed 
him  from  time  to  time  of  the  little  ' '  comedy' '  progressing 
at  the  ribbon  counter,  and  the  two  potentates  felt  quite  in 
debted  to  Belle  for  a  sensation  in  the  dullest  of  dull  seasons, 
especially  as  the  girl's  conduct  was  wholly  in  the  line  of  their 
wishes,  regulations,  and  interests.  "  She's  as  plucky  as  a 
terrier, ' '  the  echo  of  his  chief  had  said,  ' '  and  the  time  will 
come  when  she'll  sell  more  goods  than  any  two  girls  in  the 
store.  You  made  a  ten-strike  in  effecting  that  exchange." 

It  was  rich  sport  for  them  to  see  her  fiery  spirit  arousing 
and  yet  defying  the  intense  and  ill-concealed  hostility  of  her 
companions — a  hostility,  too,  that  was  extending  beyond  the 
ribbon  counter,  and  had  been  manifesting  itself  by  whisper 
ing,  significant  nods,  and  black  looks  toward  the  poor  child 
all  the  afternoon  ;  but  so  far  from  shrinking  before  this  con 
centration  of  ill-will  Belle  had  only  grown  more  indignant, 
more  openly  resentful,  and  unable  to  maintain  her  resolute 
and  tantalizing  serenity. 

Feeling  that  it  would  compromise  his  dignity  and  authority 
even  to  appear  to  notice  what  was  going  forward,  Mr.  Schri 
ven  wrapped  himself  in  his  greatness  and  passed  down  the 
shop,  sweeping  the  excited  group — that  was  restrained  for 
the  moment  by  his  presence — with  a  cold,  nonchalant  glance, 
from  which,  however,  nothing  escaped.  When  in  the  street 
his  characteristic  smile  reappeared. 

"  By  the  Lord  Harry  !"  he  muttered,  "  if  she  isn't  the 
gamiest  bit  of  flesh  and  blood  that  I've  seen  in  a  long  time  1 
She's  worth  looking  after." 

Since  his  eye  and  restraining  presence,  however,  were  now 
absent  from  the  store,  there  would  have  been  no  small  tumult 


BELLE  LAUNCHES  HERSELF.  183 

at  the  ribbon  counter  had  not  Belle  by  her  straightforward, 
fearless  manner  brought  things  to  a  speedy  issue.  There 
were  now  no  customers  in  the  shop,  and  the  discipline  of  the 
day  was  practically  over,  therefore  the  girl  on  whom  Belle  had 
turned  so  passionately,  having  reached  a  safe  distance,  said, 
outspokenly,  "  I'  11  say  it  now,  so  all  can  hear,  even  if  I  lose 
my  place  for  it.  You  are  a  mean,  p'  isinis  little  black  snake  in 
the  grass,  We  all  know  how  you  got  this  girl  out  of  the 
place  she' s  had  for  years,  and  I  want  you  to  understand  that 
if  you  stay  you'  11  have  a  hot  time  of  it " 

"  And  I  wantjv<?«  to  understand  that  if  I've  a  right  to  stay, 
I  will  stay,"  cried  Belle,  in  a  ringing  voice.  "I'm  not 
afraid  of  you,  nor  a  thousand  like  you.  Either  you'  re  all  cats 
to  treat  a  young  girl  as  you've  treated  me  the  last  two  days, 
or  else  there's  something  that  I  don't  understand.  But  I'm 
going  to  understand  it  here  and  now.  You  hold  your  tongue, 
and  let  this  girl  speak  who  says  I've  taken  her  place.  She's 
the  one  I'  m  to  deal  with.  But  first  let  me  say  how  I  got  this 
place — I  asked  for  it.  That' s  the  whole  story,  and  I  didn'  t 
know  I  was  taking  it  from  any  one  else. ' ' 

Belle's  courageous  and  truth- stamped  manner  began  to 
create  a  diversion  in  her  favor,  and  all  near  listened  with  her 
to  what  the  dismissed  girl  might  say.  The  latter  did  not  in 
the  least  respond  to  Belle's  energy,  but  after  a  long,  weary  sigh 
she  began,  without  raising  her  head  from  her  hand  as  she  sat 
leaning  on  the  counter,  "  Whether  you' re  right  or  wrong,  I'm 
too  badly  used  up  to  quarrel  with  you  or  to  answer  in  any 
such  gunpowdery  fashion.  I'm  dead  beat,  but  I  thought  I'd 
like  to  come  in  and  see  you  all  once  more,  and  my  old  place, 
and  who  was  standing  in  it  You  are  at  the  beginning,  my 
pert  one.  If  I  was  as  young  and  strong  as  you  I  wouldn't 
come  and  stand  here." 

"  How  is  your  mother?"  asked  the  girl  in  charge  of  the 
counter. 


1 84  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"She's  dying,  starving,"  was  the  reply,  in  the  same 
dreary,  apathetic  tone,  and  black  looks  were  again  directed 
toward  Belle. 

She  heeded  them  not,  however.  For  a  moment  her  eyes 
dilated  with  horror,  then  she  sprang  to  the  girl,  and  taking 
her  hands  exclaimed,  "Good  God!  What  do  you  mean? 
Let  me  go  home  with  you." 

The  girl  looked  at  her  steadfastly,  and  then  said,  ' '  Yes, 
come  home  with  me.  That's  the  best  way  to  understand  it 
all." 

"We'll  bring  your  mother  something  by  and  by,"  said 
two  or  three  of  the  girls  as  the  poor  creature  rose  slowly  to 
follow  Belle,  who  was  ready  instantly,  and  whose  course  com 
pelled  a  suspension  of  judgment  on  the  part  of  those  even 
the  most  prejudiced  against  her. 


"/  BELIEVE  IN  YOU."  185 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

I     BELIEVE     IN     YOU." 

cried  Belle  impatiently,  as  they  made  their 
way  down  Sixth  Avenue,  which  was  crowded  at 
that  hour;  "  why  do  you  walk  so  slowly?  If  my  mother 
was  as  badly  off  as  you  say  yours  is,  I'd  fly  to  her." 

' '  No,  you  wouldn'  t,  if  you  had  scarcely  eaten  anything  for 
two  days." 

"  What  !"  Belle  exclaimed,  stopping  short  and  looking  at 
her  companion  to  see  if  she  were  in  earnest.  Something  in 
her  expression  caused  the  impulsive  child  to  seize  her  hand 
and  drag  her  into  a  bakery  near.  Then  snatching  out  her 
little  purse  she  thrust  it  into  the  girl's  hands  and  said, 
' '  Here,  take  all  I  have  and  buy  what  you  like  best. ' ' 

But  instead  of  buying  anything,  the  stranger  looked  wist 
fully  into  the  excited  and  deeply  sympathetic  face,  and  said 
slov/ly,  ' '  I  don' t  believe  you'  re  bad  after  all. ' ' 

"Oh,  I'm  bad  enough — bad  as  most  girls  of  my  age," 
said  the  innocent  girl  recklessly,  "  but  I'm  not  bad  enough 
to  keep  back  a  penny  if  I  knew  any  one  was  hungry.  Stop 
looking  at  me  and  buy  what  you  like,  or  else  let  me  do  it. 
Take  home  some  of  this  jelly-cake  to  your  mother.  That 
would  tempt  nvy  appetite  if  it  ever  needed  any  tempting.  I 
half  believe  you  are  shamming  all  this,  you  act  so  queer." 

"  Come  with  me,"  said  the  girl,  for  the  people  in  the  store 
were  looking  at  them  curiously.  When  in  the  street  she  con 
tinued,  "  You  are  not  bad.  What  is  your  name  ?" 


J 86  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Belle  Jocelyn." 

"  My  name  is  Clara  Bute.  I  am  hungry.  I'm  faint  foi 
food,  but  may  it  choke  me  if  I  eat  any  before  I  take  some 
thing  home  to  mother  !  Cake  is  not  what  either  of  us  need, 
although  it  made  me  ravenous  to  see  it.  You  haven't  much 
money  here,  Belle,  and  small  as  the  sum  is,  I  don't  know 
when  I  can  repay  it." 

"  Oh,  stop  that  kind  of  talk,"  cried  Belle  ;  "  you'll  drive 
me  wild.  Let  us  get  what  your  mother  does  want  and  take  it 
to  her  without  another  word. ' ' 

They  purchased  bread  and  milk,  a  little  tea,  a  bit  of  beef, 
a  bundle  of  kindling-wood,  and  then  Belle's  slender  funds 
gave  out.  With  these  they  turned  into  a  side  street  and 
soon  reached  a  tall  tenement. 

"  Oh,"  sighed  Clara,  "  how  can  I  climb  those  dreadful 
stairs  !  We  live  at  the  top." 

"  Drink  some  of  the  milk,"  said  Belle  kindly,  "  and 
then  let  me  carry  everything." 

"  I  guess  I'll  have  to  or  I'll  never  get  up  at  all."  Slowly 
and  painfully  she  mounted  flight  after  flight,  sitting  down  at 
last  and  resting  after  each  ascent.  "  I  didn't — realize — I 
was  so  weak, ' '  she  panted. 

"  Tell  me  your  room,"  said  Belle,  "  and  I'll  come  back 
and  help  you." 

"  It's  the — last  one — back — top  floor.     I've  given  out." 

Belle  left  her  sitting  on  the  stairs  and  soon  reached  the 
door,  which  had  been  left  slightly  ajar  for  air,  for  the  evening 
was  sultry.  She  pushed  it  open  with  her  foot,  since  her 
hands  were  so  full,  and  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  articles  she 
was  carrying  so  as  to  drop  nothing,  she  crossed  the  small 
room  to  a  table  and  put  them  down  before  looking  around. 

"  There's  some — mistake,"  said  a  very  low,  hollow  voice. 

Belle  was  almost  transfixed  by  eyes  as  black  as  her  own, 
gleaming  out  of  cavernous  sockets  and  from  the  most  emaci- 


"/  BELIEVE  IN  YOU."  187 

ated  fece  she  had  ever  seen.  It  seemed  as  if  the  dead  were 
peaking  to  her.  At  any  rate,  if  the  woman  were  not  dead 
she  soon  would  be,  and  the  thought  flashed  through  Belle's 
mmd  that  she  would  be  the  cause  of  her  death,  since  she  had 
token  her  daughters  place  and  robbed  them  of  sustenance 
She  who  had  been  ready  to  face  a  whole  shopful  of  hostile 
people  with  undaunted  eyes  was  seized  with  a  remorseful 
panic,  and  ran  sobbing  down  to  Clara,  crying  "Oh  do 
come-let  me  carry  you  ;"  and  this  she  hall  did  in  her  ex 
citement.  "  Give  your  mother  something  to  make  her  bet 
ter  right  away.  Let  me  help  you— tell  me  what  to  do  " 

Clara  went  to  her  mother  and  kissed  her  tenderly,  whisper 
ing,    '   Courage,  momsy,  I've  got  something  nice  for  you  " 
Then  she  turned  and  said,    "You  are  too  excited     Belle 
11  do  everything,  and  make  the  little  we  have  go  a  great 
way.     You  would  waste  things.      I  know  just  what  to  do 
nly  give  me  time,"  and  she  soaked  some  of  the  bread  in  the 
milk  and  began  feeding  her   mother,  who  swallowed  with 
great  difficulty. 

"I'll  take  no  more-till-I  see  you-eat  something" 
gasped  the  poor  woman.  ' '  Who  gave  you  all  this  ?  Who's 
that  ?"  pointing  feebly  at  Belle. 

"  I'm  the  girl  that  took  Clara's  place,"  Belle  began  with 
a  fresh  burst  of  sobs.  ««  I  didn't  know  I  was  doing  it  and 
now  I'll  never  forgive  myself." 

Clara  looked  at  her  wonderingly  as  she  explained  •  "  The 

foreman  said  you  asked  Mr.  Schriven  to  make  a  place  for 

•ou,  but  I  don't  believe  you  meant  that  he  should  'sack' 

ie  to  do  it.     Why,  you  are  nothing  but  a  great,  warm-hearted 

The  girls  said  you  were  '  knowing,'  and  could  '  play 

as  deep  a  game  as  the  next  one,'  and  that  the  foreman  about 

J  same  as  owned  it  to  them.     It's  all  his  doing  and  his 

master's.     They  both  care  more  for  a  yard  of  ribbon  than  for 

a  girl,  body  and  soul." 


i  88  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"Well,"  said  Belle,  with  bitter  emphasis,  "I'll  never 
work  for  them  again — never,  never." 

"  Don't  say  that,"  resumed  Clara,  after  coaxing  her  mother 
to  take  a  little  more  nourishment,  and  then  sitting  down  to 
eat  something  herself.  "  If  you  are  poor  you  must  do  the 
best  you  can.  Now  that  I  know  you  I'd  rather  you  had  my 
place  than  any  one  else,  for" — she  gave  a  swift  glance  at  her 
mother's  closed  eyes,  and  then  whispered  in  Belle's  ear — "  I 
couldn't  keep  it  much  longer.  For  the  last  few  weeks  it  has 
seemed  I'd  drop  on  the  floor  where  you  stood  to-day,  and 
every  night  I've  had  harder  work  to  climb  these  stairs.  Oh, 
Lord  !  I  wish  mother  and  I  could  both  stay  here  now  till 
we're  carried  down  together  feet  foremost." 

"Don't  talk  that  way,"  pleaded  Belle,  beginning  to  cry 
again.  ' '  We'  11  all  do  for  you  now,  and  you  both  will  get 
better. ' ' 

"  Who's  '  we  all '  ?  Would  you  mind  telling  me  a  little 
about  who  you  are,  and  how  you  came  to  get  my  place  ?" 

Belle's  brief  sketch  of  herself,  her  history,  and  how  the 
recent  events  had  come  about,  was  very  simple,  but  strong 
and  original,  and  left  no  doubt  in  her  listener's  mind. 

"  My  gracious  !"  Clara  cried,  as  the  room  darkened, 
' '  your  folks'  11  be  wild  about  you.  I'  ve  nothing  to  offer  you 
but  your  own,  and  I've  kept  you  talking  when  you  must 
have  been  tired  and  hungry,  but  you  are  so  full  of  life  that 
you  put  a  bit  of  life  in  me.  It's  ages  since  I  felt  as  you  do, 
and  I'll  never  feel  so  again.  Now  run  home  with  your  mind 
at  rest.  You  have  done  us  more  good  than  you  have  harm, 
and  you  never  meant  us  any  harm  at  all." 

"  Indeed  I  did  not,"  cried  Belle,  "  but  I'm  not  through 
with  you  yet.  I'll  bring  Millie  back  with  me  and  a  lot  of 
things,"  and  she  darted  away. 

The  inmates  of  the  two  rooms  at  the  Old  Mansion  were, 
indeed,  anxious  over  Belle' s  prolonged  absence.  Her  father 


"/  BELIEVE  IN  YOU."  189 

had  gone  to  the  shop  ;  Mrs.  Wheaton,  with  her  apron  thrown 
over  her  head,  was  on  the  sidewalk  with  Mildred,  peering  up 
and  down  through  the  dusk,  when  the  half-breathless  girl 
appeared. 

Her  story  was  soon  told,  and  Mrs.  Wheaton  was  taken 
into  their  confidence.  From  trembling  apprehension  on 
Belle's  behalf,  kind  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  soon  deep  in  sympathy 
foi  the  poor  woman  and  her  daughter,  and  offered  to  go  her 
self  and  look  after  them,  but  Mildred  and  Mrs.  Wheaton 
took  the  matter  into  their  own  hands,  and  Belle,  after  gulp 
ing  down  a  hasty  supper,  was  eager  to  return  as  guide. 
Mr.  Jocelyn,  who  had  returned  from  the  closed  store  on  a 
run,  had  so  far  recovered  from  his  panic  concerning  his  child 
that  he  said  he  would  bring  a  physician  from  the  dispensary, 
and,  taking  the  number,  went  to  do  his  part  for  those  who 
had  become  "neighbors  unto  them."  A  woman  on  the 
same  floor  offered  to  look  after  Mrs.  Wheaton' s  children  for 
an  hour  or  two,  and  the  two  sisters  and  the  stout  English 
woman,  carrying  everything  they  could  think  of  to  make  the 
poor  creatures  comfortable,  and  much  that  they  could  ill 
spare,  started  on  their  errand  of  mercy.  It  never  occurred  to 
them  that  they  were  engaged  in  a  charity  or  doing  a  good 
deed.  They  were  simply  following  the  impulses  of  their 
hearts  to  help  those  of  whose  sore  need  they  had  just  learned. 
Mildred  panted  a  little  under  her  load  before  she  reached  the 
top  of  those  long,  dark  stairs.  ' '  I  could  never  get  to  heaven 
this  way, ' '  muttered  Belle,  upon  whom  the  day  of  fatigue 
and  excitement  was  beginning  to  tell.  "  It't  up,  up,  up, 
till  you  feel  like  pitching  the  man  who  built  these  steps  head 
first  down  'em  all.  It's  Belle,  Clara,"  she  said,  after  a  brief 
knock  at  the  door  ;  then  entering,  she  added,  "  I  told  you 
I'd  come  back  soon  with  help  for  you." 

"I'm  sorry  I've  nothing  to  make  a  light  with,"    Clara 
answered  ;  "the  moon  has  been  so  bright  of  late  that  we  did 


190  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

without  light,  and  then  I  got  all  out  of  money.  We  either 
had  to  pay  the  rent  or  go  into  the  street,  unless  some  one 
took  us  in.  Besides,  mother  was  too  sick  to  be  moved. 

"  I've  brought  two  candles,"  said  Mrs.  Wheaton. 
' '  They'  re  heasier  managed  hon  a  '  ot  night, ' '  and  she  soon 
had  one  burning  on  the  table  and  another  on  the  mantel. 
"  I  vant  to  see  vat's  to  be  done,"  she  continued,  "  because 
I  must  give  yer  a  'arty  lift  hin  a  jiffey  and  be  back  to  my 
children  hagain. ' '  Then  going  to  the  sick  woman  she  took 
her  hand  and  felt  her  pulse.  "  'Ow  do  yer  find  yerself, 
mum  ?' '  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  I'm  much — better — I  shall — get  well  now,"  the 
poor  soul  gasped,  under  the  strange  hallucination  of  that 
disease  which,  although  incurable,  ever  promises  speedy 
health  to  its  victims. 

"  That's  splendid  ;  that's  the  way  to  talk,"  cried  Belle, 
who  had  been  oppressed  with  the  fear  that  the  woman  would 
die,  and  that  she  in  some  sense  would  be  to  blame.  "  Clara, 
this  is  sister  Millie  that  I  told  you  about,"  and  that  was  all 
the  introduction  the  two  girls  ever  had. 

"  Vy  didn't  you  send  yer  mother  to  a  'ospital?"  Mrs. 
Wheaton  asked,  joining  the  girls  at  the  table. 

"Don't  say  'hospital'  so  mother  can  hear  you.  The 
very  word  would  kill  her  now,  for  there's  nothing  on  earth 
she  dreads  more  than  that  they'll  separate  us  and  send  her  to 
a  hospital.  I've  sometimes  thought  it  would  have  been  best, 
and  then  it  seemed  it  would  kill  her  at  once,  she  was  so  op 
posed  to  it.  That  we  might  keep  together  and  to  buy  her 
delicacies  I've  parted  with  nearly  everything  in  the  room,  as 
you  see,"  and  it  was  bare  indeed.  A  bed  from  which  the 
element  of  comfort  had  long  since  departed,  two  rickety 
chairs,  a  pine  table,  a  rusty  stove,  and  a  few  dishes  and  cook 
ing  utensils  were  about  all  there  was  left.  With  eyes  slowly 
dilating  Mildred  took  in  the  bleak  truth,  but  said  only  a  few 


'  /  BELIEVE  IN  YOU."  191 

gentle  words  and  was  very  busy.  She  lifted  Mrs.  Bute's 
head,  while  Clara  gave  her  a  little  bread  soaked  in  wine,  and 
then  aided  Mrs.  Wheaton  in  making  the  room  and  bed  a 
little  more  like  what  they  should  be  by  means  of  the  articles 
they  had  brought.  Clara  wonderingly  saw  that  her  little 
closet  was  stocked  with  supplies  for  days  to  come.  Her 
mother's  preternaturally  brilliant  eyes  followed  every  move 
ment,  also,  with  a  dumb  but  eager  questioning.  Tired  Belle 
in  the  mean  time  had  drawn  a  chair  to  the  table,  and  with  her 
head  resting  on  her  arms  had  dropped  asleep  in  a  moment. 

' '  Why  should  your  sister  work  in  a  store  if  you'  re  not 
poor?"  Clara  asked  Mildred.  "You  can't  be  poor  and 
spare  all  these  things." 

"  Yes,  we're  poor,  but  not  so  poor  as  you  are,"  said  Mil 
dred  simply.  "  Belle  touched  our  hearts  in  your  behalf, 
and  we  see  you  need  a  little  neighborly  help. " 

"  Well,  I  was  never  so  mistaken  in  any  one  in  my  life," 
Clara  exclaimed,  looking  at  the  sleeping  girl,  with  a  remorse 
ful  gush  of  tears.  "  There  isn't  a  bad  streak  in  her." 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened,  and  two  girls,  who  had 
been  Clara's  companions  at  the  shop,  appeared  with  a  few 
meagre  parcels.  Before  asking  them  in  she  pulled  them 
back  in  the  hall  and  there  were  a  few  moments  of  eager  whis 
pering.  Then  they  all  came  in  and  looked  at  Belle,  and 
Clara  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  lightly,  at  which  the  girl 
smiled  and  murmured,  "  Deai  little  mother — always  brood 
ing  over  her  chicks. 

"  She  thinks  she's  home,"  explained  Mildred,  with  moist 
eyes. 

' '  This  is  her  sister, ' '  said  Clara,  ' '  and  this  lady  is  a  friend 
of  theirs.  I  know  they'  ve  robbed  themselves,  they'  ve  brought 
so  much." 

"  Vun's  honly  ter  come  to  Hameriker  ter  be  a  lady," 
chuckled  Mrs.  Wheaton  under  her  breath. 


192  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

"  We  won't  wake  your  sister,"  said  one  of  the  girls. 
"  She's  tired,  and  no  wonder.  We  haven't  treated  her  right 
at  the  store,  but  we  wasn't  to  blame,  for  we  didn't  know  her 
at  all.  Please  tell  her  that  we'll  give  her  a  different  reception 
to-morrow, "  and  after  another  season  of  whispering  in  the 
hall  they  departed,  leaving  the  simple  offerings  gleaned  from 
their  poverty. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  and  the  physician  soon  appeared,  and  after  a 
brief  examination  the  latter  called  Mr.  Jocelyn  aside  and 
said,  "  Her  pulse  indicates  that  she  may  die  at  any  hour. 
There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  do  anything,  for  the  end  has 
come.  It  has  probably  been  hastened  by  lack  of  proper  food, 
but  it's  too  late  now  to  give  much,  for  there  is  no  power  of 
assimilation. ' ' 

"  You  had  better  tell  the  poor  girl  the  truth,  then,"  said 
Mr.  Jocelyn. 

Clara  was  called,  and  heard  the  verdict  with  a  short,  con 
vulsive  sob,  then  was  her  weary,  quiet  self  again.  "  I 
feared  it  was  so,"  was  all  she  said.  She  now  became  aware 
that  Mildred  stood  beside  her  with  an  encircling  and  sustain 
ing  arm.  "Don't,"  she  whispered;  "don't  be  too  kind 
or  I'  11  break  down  utterly,  and  I  don' t  want  to  before  mother. 
She  don't  know — she  never  will  believe  she  can  die,  and  I 
don't  want  her  to  know.  I'll  have  time  enough  to  cry  after 
she' s  gone. 

"  I  feel  I  must  stay  vith  yer  to-night,"  warm-hearted  Mrs. 
Wheaton  began  ;  "  and  if  Miss  Jocelyn  vill  look  hafter  my 
children  I  vill." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Wheaton,"  said  Mildred  decidedly,  "I'm 
going  to  stay.  You  ought  to  be  with  your  children.  Don't 
tell  Belle,  papa,  and  take  the  poor  child  home.  Clara  and 
I  can  now  do  all  that  can  be  done.  Please  don' t  say  any 
thing  against  it,  for  I  know  I'm  right,"  she  pleaded  earnestly 
in  answer  to  her  father' s  look  of  remonstrance. 


"/  BELIEVE  IN  YOU."  193 

' '  Very  well,  then,  I'  11  return  and  stay  with  you, ' '  he  said. 

The  physician's  eyes  dwelt  on  Mildred's  pale  face  in  strong 
admiration  as  he  gave  her  a  few  directions.  "  That's  right, 
Millie,  make  her  well  for  mercy's  sake  or  I'll  have  the  hor 
rors,  ' '  Belle  whispered  as  she  kissed  her  sister  good-night. 

Soon  Clara  and  Mildred  were  alone  watching  the  gasping, 
fitful  sleeper.  "After  all  that's  been  done — for  me — to 
night  I'll — surely  get  well,"  she  had  murmured,  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  without  an  apparent  doubt  of  recovery. 

Mildred  furtively  explored  the  now  dimly  lighted  room. 
"Merciful  Heaven,"  she  sighed,  "  shall  we  ever  come  to 
this?"  Clara's  eyes  were  fixed  on  her  mother's  face  with 
pathetic  intensity,  watching  the  glimmer  of  that  mysterious 
thing  we  call  life,  that  flickered  more  and  more  faintly.  The 
difference  between  the  wasted  form,  with  its  feeble  animation, 
and  what  it  must  soon  become  would  seem  slight,  but  to  the 
daughter  it  would  be  wide  indeed.  Love  could  still  answer 
love,  even  though  it  was  by  a  sign,  a  glance,  a  whisper  only  ; 
but  when  to  the  poor  girl  it  would  be  said  of  her  mother, 
"  She's  gone,"  dim  and  fading  as  the  presence  had  been, 
manifested  chiefly  by  the  burdens  it  imposed,  its  absence 
would  bring  the  depths  of  desolation  and  sorrow. 

Going  the  poor  creature  evidently  was,  and  whither  ?  The 
child  she  was  leaving  knew  little  of  what  was  bright  and 
pleasant  in  this  world,  and  nothing  of  the  next.  "  Miss 
Jocelyn,"  she  began  hesitatingly. 

' '  Don' t  call  me  Miss  Jocelyn  ;  I'  m  a  working-girl  like 
yourself." 

"  Millie,  then,  as  Belle  said  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Millie,  do  you  believe  in  a  heaven?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  is  it  like  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  very  well.     It's  described  to  us  under  every 


1 94  IV I THO  UT  A  HOME. 

grand  and  beautiful  image  the  world  affords.     I  think  we'll 
find  it  what  we  best  need  to  make  us  happy. 

"  Oh,  then  it  would  be  rest  for  mother  and  me,"  the  girl 
sighed  wearily. 

"  It's  surely  rest,"  Mildred  replied  quickly,  "  for  I  re 
member  a  place  in  the  Bible  where  it  says,  '  There  remaineth 
a  rest  for  the  people  of  God. '  ' 

"  That's  it,"  said  Clara  with  some  bitterness  ;  "  it's  always 
the  people  of  God.  What  remains  for  such  as  we,  who  have 
always  been  so  busy  fighting  the  wolf  that  we've  thought  little 
of  God  or  church  ?" 

"  You've  been  no  poorer,  Clara,  than  Christ  was  all  His 
life,  and  were  He  on  earth  now  as  He  was  once,  I'  d  bring 
Him  here  to  your  room.  He'd  come,  too,  for  He  lived 
among  just  such  people  as  we  are,  and  never  once  refused  to 
help  them  in  their  troubles  or  their  sins." 

"  Once — once,"  cried  Clara,  with  a  gush  of  tears. 
"  Where  is  He  now  ?" 

"  Here  with  us.  I  know  it,  for  we  need  Him.  Our  need 
is  our  strongest  claim — one  that  He  never  refused.  I  have 
entreated  Him  in  your  behalf  and  your  mother's,  and  do  you 
ask  Him  also  to  put  heaven  at  the  end  of  this  dark  and  oiten 
thorny  path  which  most  of  us  must  tread  in  this  world. ' ' 

"  Oh,  Millie,  Millie,  I'm  ignorant  as  a  heathen.  I  did  have 
a  Bible,  but  I  sold  even  that  to  buy  wine  to  save  mother's 
life.  I  might  better  have  been  thinking  of  saving  her  soul. 
She's  too  sick  to  be  talked  to  now,  but  surely  she  ought  to 
find  at  least  a  heaven  of  rest.  You  could  never  understand 
the  life  she's  led.  She  hasn't  lived — she's  just  been  dragged 
through  the  world.  She  was  born  in  a  tenement-house. 
The  little  play  she  ever  had  was  on  sidewalks  and  in  the  gut 
ters  ;  she's  scarcely  ever  seen  the  country.  Almost  before 
she  knew  how  to  play  she  began  to  work.  When  she  was 
only  seventeen  a  coarse,  bad  man  married  her.  How  it  ever 


"/  BELIEVE  IN  YOU."  195 

came  about  I  never  could  understand.  I  don't  believe  he 
knew  anything  more  of  love  than  a  pig  ;  for  he  lived  like 
one  and  died  like  one,  only  he  didn't  die  soon  enough.  It 
seems  horrible  that  I  should  speak  in  this  way  of  my  father, 
and  yet  why  should  I  not,  when  he  was  a  horror  to  me  ever 
since  I  can  remember  ?  Instead  of  taking  care  of  mother, 
she  had  to  take  care  of  him.  He'd  take  the  pittance  she 
had  wrung  from  the  washtub  for  drink,  and  then  come  back 
to  repay  her  for  it  with  blows  and  curses.  I  guess  we  must 
have  lived  in  fifty  tenements,  for  we  were  always  behind  with 
the  rent  and  so  had  to  move  here  and  there,  wherever  we 
could  get  a  place  to  put  our  heads  in.  Queer  places  some 
of  them  were,  I  can  tell  you — mere  rat-holes.  They  served 
one  purpose,  though — they  finished  off  the  children.  To  all 
mother's  miseries  and  endless  work  was  added  the  anguish 
of  child-bearing.  They  were  miserable,  puny,  fretful  little 
imps,  that  were  poisoned  off  by  the  bad  air  in  which  we  lived, 
and  our  bad  food — that  is,  when  we  had  any — after  they  had 
made  all  the  trouble  they  could.  I  had  the  care  of  most  of 
them,  and  my  life  became  a  burden  before  I  was  seven  years 
old.  I  used  to  get  so  tired  and  faint  that  I  was  half  glad 
when  they  died.  At  last,  when  mother  became  so  used  up 
that  she  really  couldn'  t  work  any  more,  father  did  for  us  the 
one  good  act  that  I  know  anything  about — he  went  off  on 
a  big  spree  that  finished  him.  Mother  and  I  have  clung 
together  ever  since.  We've  often  been  hungry,  but  we've 
never  been  separated  a  night.  What  a  long  night  is  coming 
now,  in  which  the  doctor  says  we  shall  be  parted  !"  and  the 
poor  girl  crouched  on  the  floor  where  her  mother  could  not 
see  her  should  she  open  her  eyes,  and  sobbed  convulsively. 

Mildred  did  not  try  to  comfort  her  with  words,  but  only 
with  caresses.  Christ  proved  centuries  ago  that  the  sympa 
thetic  touch  is  healing. 

"  Oh,  Millie,  I  seem  to  feel  the  gentle  stroke  of  your  hand 


196  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

on  my  heart  as  well  as  on  my  brow,  and  it  makes  the  pain 
easier  to  bear.  It  makes  me  feel  as  if  the  coarse,  brutal  life 
through  which  I've  come  did  not  separate  me  from  one  so 
good  and  different  as  you  are  ;  for  though  you  may  be  poor, 
you  are  as  much  of  a  lady  as  any  I've  ever  waited  on  at  the 
store.  And  then  to  look  at  your  father  and  to  think  of  mine. 
I  learned  to  hate  men  even  when  a  child,  for  nearly  all  I  ever 
knew  either  abused  me  or  tempted  me  ;  but,  Millie,  you 
need  not  fear  to  touch  me.  I  never  sold  myself,  though  I've 
been  faint  with  hunger.  I'm  ignorant,  and  my  heart's  been 
full  of  bitterness,  but  I'  m  an  honest  girl. ' ' 

"  Poor,  poor  Clara  !"  said  Mildred  brokenly,  "  my  heart 
aches  for  you  as  I  think  of  all  you've  suffered." 

The  girl  sprang  up,  seized  the  candle,  and  held  it  to  Mil 
dred's  face.  "  My  God,"  she  whispered,  "  you  are  crying 
over  my  troubles. ' '  Then  she  looked  steadfastly  into  the 
tearful  blue  eyes  and  beautiful  face  of  her  new  friend  for  a 
moment,  and  said,  "  Millie,  I'll  believe  any  faith _>>#«'//  teach 
me,  for  I  believe  inyou." 


BELLE  JARS  THE  "SYSTEM. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

BELLE   JARS   THE    "SYSTEM." 

SOME  orthodox  divines  would  have  given  Clara  a  version 
of  the  story  of  life  quite  different  from  that  which  she  re 
ceived  from  Mildred.  Many  divines,  not  orthodox,  would  have 
made  the  divergence  much  wider.  The  poor  girl,  so  bruised 
in  spirit  and  broken  in  heart,  was  not  ready  for  a  system  of 
theology  or  for  the  doctrine  of  evolution  ;  and  if  any  one 
had  begun  to  teach  the  inherent  nobleness  and  self-correcting 
power  of  humanity,  she  would  have  shown  him  the  door, 
feeble  as  she  was.  But  when  Mildred  assured  her  that  if 
Christ  were  in  the  city,  as  He  had  been  in  Capernaum,  He 
would  climb  the  steep,  dark  stairs  to  her  attic  room  and  say 
to  her,  "  Daughter,  be  of  good  comfort" — when  she  was 
told  that  Holy  Writ  declared  that  He  was  the  "  same  yester 
day,  to-day,  and  forever" — her  heart  became  tender  and  con 
trite,  and  therefore  ready  for  a  Presence  that  is  still  ' '  seeking 
that  which  was  lost. ' ' 

Men  may  create  philosophies,  they  may  turn  the  Gospel 
itself  into  a  cold  abstraction,  but  the  practical  truth  remains 
that  the  Christ  who  saves,  comforts,  and  lifts  the  intolerable 
burden  of  sorrow  or  of  sin,  comes  now  as  of  old — comes  as 
a  living,  loving,  personal  presence,  human  in  sympathy, 
divine  in  power.  As  Mildred  had  said,  our  need  and  our 
consciousness  of  it  form  our  strongest  claim  upon  Him  and 
the  best  preparation  for  Him. 

Clara  was  proving  the  truth  of  her  words.      Life  could 


1 9§  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

never  be  to  her  again  merely  a  bitter,  sullen  struggle  for 
bread.  A  great  hope  was  dawning,  and  though  but  a  few 
rays  yet  quivered  through  the  darkness,  they  were  the  earnest 
of  a  fuller  light. 

Before  midnight  Mr.  Jocelyn  joined  the  watchers,  and 
seated  himself  unobtrusively  in  a  dusky  corner  of  the  room. 
Clara  crouched  on  the  floor  beside  her  mother,  her  head 
resting  on  the  bed,  and  her  hand  clasping  the  thin  fingers  oi 
the  dying  woman.  She  insisted  on  doing  everything  the  pool 
creature  required,  which  was  but  little,  for  it  seemed  that  life 
•would  waver  out  almost  imperceptibly.  Mildred  sat  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  where  her  father  could  see  her  pure  profile  in 
the  gloom.  To  his  opium-kindled  imagination  it  seemed 
to  have  a  radiance  of  its  own,  and  to  grow  more  and  more 
luminous  until,  in  its  beauty  and  light,  it  became  like  the 
ountenance  of  an  accusing  angel  ;  then  it  began  to  recede 
« rftil  it  appeared  infinitely  far  away.  "Millie,"  he  called, 
in  deep  apprehension. 

' '  What  is  it,  papa  ?' '  she  asked,  springing  to  his  side  and 
putting  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Oh  !"  he  said,  shudderingly.  "  I  had  such  a  bad 
dream  !  You  seemed  fading  away  from  me,  till  I  could  no 
longer  see  your  face.  It  was  so  horribly  real  !" 

She  came  and  sat  beside  him,  and  held  his  hand  in  both  of 
hers.  ' '  That' s  right, ' '  he  remarked  ;  ' '  now  my  dreams  will 
be  pleasant" 

"  You  didn't  seem  to  be  asleep,  papa,"  said  the  girl,  in 
some  surprise ;  "  indeed,  you  seemed  looking  at  mo 
fixedly. ' ' 

"  Then  I  must  have  been  asleep  with  my  eyes  open,"  he 
answered,  with  a  trace  of  embarrassment 

"  Poor  papa,  you  are  tired,  and  it's  very,  very  kind  of  you 
to  come  and  stay  with  me,  but  I  wasn't  afraid.  Clara  says 
its  a  respectable  house,  and  the  people,  though  very  poor, 


BELLE  JARS  THE  "SYSTEM."  199 

are  quiet  and  well  behaved.  Now  that  you  have  seen  that  we 
are  safe,  please  go  home  and  rest, ' '  and  she  coaxed  until  he 
complied,  more  from  fear  that  he  would  betray  himself  than 
from  any  other  motive. 

In  the  deep  hush  that  falls  on  even  a  great  city  before  the 
early  life  of  the  next  day  begins,  Mrs.  Bute  opened  her  eyes 
and  called,  "  Clara  !" 

1 '  Right  here,  momsy,  dear,  holding  your  hand. ' ' 

"  It's  strange — I  can't  see  you — I  feel  so  much  better, 
too — sort  of  rested.  It  does — seem  now — as  if  I — might  get 
— a  little  rest.  Don't  wake  me — child — to  give  me — any 
thing — and  rest  yourself. ' ' 

She  smiled  faintly  as  she  closed  her  eyes,  and  very  soon 
Clara  could  never  wake  her  again.  Mildred  took  the  head 
of  the  orphan  into  her  lap,  and  the  poor  girl  at  last  sobbed 
herself  to  sleep. 

We  will  not  attempt  to  follow  Mildred's  thoughts  as  she 
tried  to  keep  up  through  the  long  hours.  The  murmured 
words,  "  I  would  watch  more  patiently  over  Vinton  Arnold, 
did  not  his  proud  mother  stand  between  us,"  suggests  the 
.character  of  some  of  them.  At  last,  when  she  was  faint  from 
weariness,  she  heard  steps  coming  up  the  stairs,  and  her 
mother  entered,  followed  by  Mrs.  Wheaton. 

' '  My  dear,  brave  child,  this  is  too  much  for  you.  I'd  rather 
it  had  been  myself  a  thousand  times, ' '  Mrs.  Jocelyn  exclaimed. 

"  It's  ail  right,  mamma,  but  the  sight  of  you  and  good 
Mrs.  Wheaton  is  more  welcome  than  I  can  tell  you,  for  I 
was  getting  very  lonely  and  tired. ' ' 

"  I'll  stay  now  hand  tend  ter  heverything, "  said  Mrs. 
Wheaton,  with  a  stout,  cheery  kindness  that  could  not  be 
disguised  even  in  her  whisper  ;  but  Clara  awoke  with  a  start 
and  said,  "  What  is  it,  momsy  ?" 

Then  she  sprang  up,  and  after  a  brief  glance  at  her  mother 
threw  herself  with  a  long,  low  cry  on  the  lifeless  form. 


200  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  Leave  hall  ter  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wheaton  decidedly, 
"  hand  take  Miss  Jocelyn  'ome,  for  this' 11  be  too  much  for 
'er." 

"  Ah,  mamma  dear,"  sobbed  Mildred,  "  my  heart  would 
be  broken  indeed  if  that  were  you." 

"  Millie,  if  you  love  me,  come  home  at  once,"  Mrs.  Joce 
lyn  urged.  It  was  quit*  light  when  they  gained  the  street, 
and  after  reaching  home  Mildred  was  given  a  warm  cup  of 
tea,  and  left  to  sleep  until  late  in  the  day.  While  she  slept, 
however,  there  occurred  some  rather  stirring  scenes. 

Belle,  too,  slept  rather  late,  but  a  portentous  gloom  came 
into  her  eyes  when  told  that  Mrs.  Bute  was  dead.  She  did 
not  say  very  much,  but  her  young  face  grew  older  and  very 
resolute  while  she  hastily  ate  her  breakfast.  Then  she  car 
ried  something  nice  to  Clara,  and  found  that  Mrs.  Wheaton 
had  left,  a  neighbor  from  the  tall  tenement  having  taken  her 
place. 

Belle  looked  at  the  bereaved  girl  with  half-fearful  eyes  as 
if  she  expected  reproaches,  and  when  Clara  kissed  her  in 
greeting  she  said  "  Don't"  so  sharply  as  to  excite  surprise. 

"  Belle,"  said  Clara  gently,  "  mother's  at  rest." 

"That's  more  than  I  am,"  muttered  the  girl.  "Oh, 
Clara,  I  didn'  t  mean  to  bring  all  this  trouble  on  you.  That 
man  just  caught  me  in  a  trap." 

' '  Belle,  Belle  !  why  do  you  blame  yourself  for  all  this  ? 
It  would  have  come  just  the  same,  and  probably  just  as 
soon,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you  I'd  been  alone,  with  no 
friends  and  no  hope. " 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  to  me!"  Belle  cried;  "your  mother 
might  have  been  alive  if  I  hadn't  taken  your  place.  I  want 
to  see  her." 

Clara  turned  back  the  covering,  and  the  young  girl  looked 
at  the  dead  face  with  a  stern,  frowning  brow. 

"  Starved  !"  she  muttered.      "  I  understand  why  they  all 


BELLE  JARS  THE  "SYSTEM."  20 « 

looked  so  black  at  me  now  ;  but  why  couldn'  t  some  one  have 
told  me  ?  He  shall  know  the  truth  for  once  ;  he's  more  to 
blame  than  I,"  and  she  abruptly  departed. 

Very  little  later  the  foreman  of  the  shop  on  Sixth  Avenue 
was  astonished  to  see  her  passing  hastily  toward  the  private 
office,  regardless  of  the  looks  of  surprise  and  interest  turned 
toward  her  on  every  side,  for  the  events  of  the  night  had  been 
very  generally  whispered  around. 

"  Mr.  Schriven's  engaged,"  he  said  sharply.  "  What  do 
you  want  ?  Why  are  you  not  in  your  place  ?' ' 

' '  I  am  in  my  place,  but  you  are  not.  Stand  aside,  for  1 
will  see  Mr.  Schriven  at  once." 

' '  I  tell  you  some  one  is  with  him. ' ' 

"  I  don't  care  if  the  king's  with  him,"  and  darting  on  one 
side  she  reached  the  office  door,  and  knocked  so  sharply  that 
the  ireful  potentate  within  sprang  up  himself  to  see  who  the 
inconsiderate  intruder  was. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,"  he  said,  half  inclined  to  laugh  in  spite  of 
his  anger.  ' '  I  thought  I  said  that,  if  I  employed  you,  you 
were  not  to  come  to  my  office  again  unless  I  sent  for  you  ?" 

"I'm  not  in  your  employ." 

"  Indeed  !     How's  that  ?"  he  asked  very  sharply. 

"  That  is  just  what  I've  come  to  explain,"  was  the  un 
flinching  reply. 

"  By-by,"  remarked  Mr.  Schriven's  visitor  maliciously; 
"  I  see  you  are  to  be  interviewed." 

"  Very  briefly,  I  assure  you.  Good-morning.  Now, 
miss,  I  give  you  about  one  minute  to  transact  your  business 
with  me,  then  the  cashier  will  pay  you  for  two  days'  work." 

"No,  sir,  he  will  not.  Do  you  think  I'd  take  money 
stained  with  blood  ?" 

' '  What  do  you  mean  ?  What  kind  of  a  girl  are  you  any 
way  ?" 

"  I'm  an  honest  girl ;  I  believe  in  God  and  the  devil — I 


202  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

believe  in  them  both  too  well  to  have  anything  more  to  do 
with  you  unless  you  can  prove  you  didn't  know  any  more 
than  I  did.  You  think  to  frighten  me  with  black  looks,  but 
I've  just  come  from  a  greater  presence  than  yours — the  pres 
ence  of  one  who'll  soon  be  your  master — Death,  and  death 
for  which  you  are  responsible. ' ' 

' '  Good  God  !  what  do  you  mean  ?' ' 

"  What  did  you  mean  by  turning  off  without  a  word  a 
poor  girl — one  who  for  years  had  done  her  best  for  you  ? 
What  did  you  mean  by  making  a  place  for  me  in  that  way  ? 
Her  mother  died  last  night — starved — and  I'  d  have  you  know 
that  I'd  have  starved  before  I'd  have  taken  her  place  had  I 
known  what  I  know  now.  Go  look  at  your  work  at  the  top 
of  a  tenement-house  !  There's  more  flesh  on  your  arm  than 
on  that  dead  woman's  body,  and  the  poor  girl  herself  hadn't 
eaten  anything  for  two  days  when  she  came  here  last  night. 
She'd  have  died,  too,  if  sister  Millie  hadn't  stayed  with  her 
last  night.  I  hope  you  didn't  know  any  more  than  I  did. 
If  you  did  you've  got  to  settle  with  God  and  the  devil  before 
you're  through  with  this  kind  of  business." 

The  man  was  frightened,  for  he  had  meant  no  deliberate 
cruelty.  He  was  only  practising  the  sound  political  econ 
omy  of  obtaining  the  most  for  the  least,  but  in  the  words  and 
stern  face  of  the  child  he  saw  how  his  act  must  appear  to  a 
mind  unwarped  by  interest  and  unhardened  by  selfish  years. 
Moreover,  he  could  not  bluster  in  the  presence  of  death,  and 
the  thought  that  his  greed  had  caused  it  chilled  his  heart  with 
a  sudden  dread.  He  caught  at  the  extenuation  her  words 
suggested,  and  said  gravely,  "  You  are  right  ;  I  did  not 
know.  I  would  send  food  from  my  own  table  rather  than 
any  one  should  go  hungry.  I  knew  nothing  about  this  girl, 
and  no  one  has  told  me  of  her  need  until  this  moment.  A 
man  at  the  head  of  a  great  business  cannot  look  after  details. 
The  best  he  can  do  is  to  manage  his  business  on  business 


BELLE  JARS  THE  "  SYSTEM."  203 

principles.     To  prove  that  I'm  sincere,   I'll  take  the  girl 
back  again  at  her  old  wages,  although  I  do  not  need  her." 

The  man  lied  in  giving  a  false  impression.  It  was  true 
that  he  did  not  single  out  individuals  as  objects  of  intentional 
cruelty,  but  his  system  was  hard  and  remorseless,  and  crushed 
like  the  wheels  of  Juggernaut,  and  he  purposely  shut  his 
eyes  to  all  questions  and  consequences  save  those  of  profit 
and  loss.  When  compelled  to  face,  through  Belle's  eyes, 
an  instance  of  the  practical  outcome  of  his  system,  he  shud 
dered  and  trembled,  for  the  moment,  and  was  inclined  to 
ease  his  conscience  by  a  little  ostentatious  kindness,  especial 
ly  as  the  facts  in  the  case  bade  fair  to  become  known.  Men 
who,  unlike  Belle,  have  little  fear  of  God  or  the  devil,  do 
fear  public  opinion.  The  girl  interpreted  him,  however, 
after  her  own  warm,  guileless  heart,  and  in  strong  revulsion 
of  feeling  said,  tearfully,  "  Please  forgive  me,  sir,  for  speak 
ing  as  I  have.  I've  done  you  wrong,  and  I  acknowledge  i*i 
frankly,  but  I  was  almost  beside  myself.  We  didn'  t  either 
of  us  mean  them  any  harm." 

The  man  could  not  repress  a  smile  at  Belle's  association  of 
herself  with  him  in  the  guilt  of  the  affair.  In  fact,  he  rather 
liked  the  idea,  for  it  made  his  own  part  seem  quite  venial 
after  all — an  error  of  ignorance  like  that  of  the  child's — so 
Ke  said  kindly,  "  Indeed,  we  did  not,  and  now  we'll  make 
amends.  You  go  and  see  what  is  needed  and  let  me  know, 
and  to-morrow,  if  you  wish,  you  can  take  your  own  place 
and  not  any  one' s  else.  You  are  a  smart,  good-hearted  girl, 
and  by  and  by  I  can  give  you  better  wages." 

"  I  did  you  wrong,  sir,"  repeated  Belle  remorsefully, 
' '  and  now  that  you  will  take  Clara  back,  I'  d  work  for  you 
almost  for  nothing.  When  and  where  shall  I  come?"  she 
added  humbly  ;  "  I  don't  wish  to  seem  rude  any  more." 

"  Come  to  my  house  this  evening,"  and  he  gave  her  his 
number. 


204  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  what  I  said.  Good-by,  sir," 
and  with  tearful  eyes  and  downcast  face  she  went  to  the 
street,  without  a  glance  on  either  side. 

The  man  sat  for  a  few  moments  with  a  heavily  contracting 
brow.  At  last  he  strecthed  out  his  hand  and  sighed,  "I'd 
give  all  there  is  in  this  store  if  my  heart  was  like  that  girl's, 
but  here  I  am  at  this  hour  engaged  in  a  transaction  which  is 
the  devil's  own  bargain,  and  with  a  firm  that  can't  help  itself 
because  it  is  in  my  power.  Hang  it  all  !  business  is  busi 
ness  ;  I'll  lose  a  cool  thousand  unless  I  carry  it  through  as 
I've  begun."  He  seized  his  pen  and  carried  it  through. 

Belle,  attended  by  her  father,  was  not  in  the  least  abashed 
by  the  elegance  of  Mr.  Schriven's  parlor,  as  he  had  rather 
hoped  she  would  be,  but  he  was  much  impressed  by  Mr. 
Jocelyn's  fine  appearance  and  courtly  bearing.  "  No  won 
der  the  girl's  course  has  been  peculiar,"  he  thought.  "  She 
comes  from  no  common  stock.  If  I've  ever  seen  a  Southern 
gentleman,  her  father's  one,  and  her  plump  little  body  is  full 
of  hot  Southern  blood.  She's  a  thoroughbred,  and  that  ac 
counts  for  her  smartness  and  fearlessness.  Where  other  girls 
would  whine  and  toady  to  your  face,  and  be  sly  and  catlike 
behind  your  back,  she'd  look  you  in  the  eyes  and  say  all  she 
meant  point-blank.  I'm  glad  indeed  things  are  taking  their 
present  course,  for  these  people  could  make  any  man  trou 
ble,  ' '  and  he  treated  his  guests  very  suavely. 

Belle  soon  told  her  story  in  a  straightforward  manner. 
One.  of  her  generous  projects  was  to  have  a  rather  grand 
funeral,  with  all  the  girls  in  the  shop  attending  in  a  proces 
sion.  "  What  a  child  she  is  !"  thought  Mr.  Schriven,  with 
difficulty  repressing  a  laugh,  but  he  proceeded  very  gravely 
to  induce  the  girl  to  take  his  own  practical  view. 

"In  the  first  place,  my  child, "  he  said,  "  that  woman 
died  of  consumption — she  didn't  starve  at  all." 

' '  I  think  she  died  the  sooner, ' '  Belle  faltered. 


BELLE  JARS  THE    'SYSTEM."  205 

"  Possibly.  If  so,  she  was  the  sooner  out  of  her  misery. 
At  any  rate  we  are  not  to  blame,  since,  as  you  said,  we 
didn'  t  know.  Now  a  funeral,  such  as  you  suggest,  would 
be  very  costly,  and  would  do  no  one  any  good.  It  would 
scarcely  be  in  good  taste,  for,  considering  the  poor  woman's 
circumstances,  it  would  be  ostentatious." 

' '  Belle,  Mr.  Schriven  is  right, ' '  said  her  father,  in  a  tone 
of  quiet  authority. 

' '  Let  us  rather  consider  the  need  of  the  daughter, ' '  Mr. 
Schriven  resumed.  ' '  You  say  she  is  worn  and  weak  from 
watching  and  work.  A  quarter  of  the  money  that  a  funeral 
would  cost  would  give  her  two  or  three  weeks  in  the  coun 
try.  And  now,"  he  concluded  impressively — his  con 
science  needed  a  little  soothing,  and  his  purse  was  plethoric 
with  the  thousand  dollars  wrung  from  those  who  had  the  mis 
fortune  to  be  in  his  power — "  I  will  pay  her  board  at  some 
quiet  farm-house  for  three  weeks,  and  then  she'  11  come  back 
fresh  and  strong  to  her  old  place. ' ' 

Belle's  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  gladness.  "  You  are  right, 
sir,  and  you  are  very  kind  and  generous.  I  know  just  the 
place  for  her  to  go — the  people  we've  been  with  all  summer. 
They  are  kind,  and  will  do  everything  for  her,  and  take  away 
her  strange- feeling  at  once.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  it's  all  ending 
so  much  better  than  I  feared  !  I  thought  this  morning  I 
could  never  be  happy  again,  but  you've  made  all  seem  so 
different  and  hopeful.  I  thank  you,  sir,  over  and  over,  and 
I'll  do  my  best  now  at  the  store,  and  be  respectful  to  every 
one." 

The  man  was  touched.  The  warm,  reflected  glow  of  the 
girl's  heart  softened  for  a  moment  his  own  icy  organ,  and  his 
eyes  grew  moist  momentarily.  ' '  You  are  a  good  child, ' ' 
he  said.  "Here  are  thirty-five  dollars  for  your  friend,  for 
you've  been  a  friend  to  her  indeed.  Most  girls  would  have 
let  them  starve  for  all  they  cared.  Now  send  the  girl  off  to 


206  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

the  country,  and  as  soon  as  I  can  I'll  raise  your  wages  to  five 
dollars.  I'd  do  it  now,  only  the  others  would  talk  and  say 
it  wasn't  customary  to  pay  beginners  so  highly.  Mr.  Joce- 
lyn,  I  congratulate  you  on  the  possession  of  such  a  daughter, 
and  I  sincerely  hope  you  may  soon  retrieve  your  fortunes  and 
regain  the  position  to  which  I  see  that  you  both  naturally 
belong,"  and  he  bowed  them  out  with  a  politeness  and  re 
spect  that  were  not  by  any  means  assumed. 

Belle  almost  danced  home  by  her  father's  side,  so  great 
was  the  rebound  of  her  depressed  feelings.  Thirty-five  dol 
lars  !  How  much  that  would  do  for  poor  Clara  !  Millie 
would  help  her  make  up  her  mourning,  and  she  would  have 
nothing  to  pay  for  but  the  material.  She  would  write  to 
Mrs.  Atwood  that  very  night,  and  to  Roger,  telling  him  he 
must  be  kind  to  Clara,  and  take  her  out  to  drive.  Her  heart 
fairly  bubbled  over  with  plans  and  projects  for  the  girl  whose 
' '  place  she  had  taken. ' ' 

Th^  poor  child  had  scarcely  begun  her  letter  to  Mrs.  At 
wood  before  her  head  drooped,  and  Mildred  said,  "Tell 
me  v  .iat  to  say,  Belle,  and  I'll  write  it  all.  You've  done 
your  part  to-day,  and  done  it  well. ' ' 

"  That's  good  of  you,  Millie.     When  I  get  sleepy  it's  no 
vse  to  try  to  do  anything.      I'd  go  to  sleep  if  the  house  was 
•>;?  fire.      But  you  won't  write  to  Roger,  I'm  afraid." 
No.      If  he  must  be  written  to,  you  must  do  that." 

"Well,  I  will  to-morrow.  He'll  do  Clara  more  good 
than  all  the  rest." 

Our  story  passes  hastily  over  the  scenes  that  followed.  A 
brief  service  was  held  over  Mrs.  Bute's  remains  by  a  city 
missionary,  known  to  Mrs.  Wheaton,  who  was  present 
with  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  Belle,  and  Mildred.  Three  or  four 
neighbors  from  the  tenement  lent  chairs  and  came  in  also. 
The  girls  at  the  ribbon  counter  clubbed  together  and  sent 
an  anchor  of  white  flowers,  and  at  the  hour  of  the  funeral 


BELLE  JARS  THE  "SYSTEM."  207 

they  looked  grave  and  were  quiet  in  manner,  thus  taking  part 
in  the  solemnity  in  the  only  way  they  could.  In  due  time  the 
city  department  upon  which  the  duty  devolved  sent  the 
"  dead  wagon  ;"  the  morsel  of  human  clay  was  returned  to 
its  kindred  dust  in  "  Potter's  Field,"  a  public  cemetery  on 
Hart's  Island,  in  which  are  interred  all  who  die  in  the  city 
and  whose  friends  are  unable  to  pay  for  a  grave  or  a  burial 
plot.  Clara,  however,  had  not  the  pain  of  seeing  her  mother 
placed  in  the  repulsive  red  box  furnished  by  the  department, 
for  Mr.  Jocelyn  sent  a  plain  but  tasteful  coffin,  with  the 
woman's  age  and  name  inscribed  upon  it 

Mrs.  Wheaton  went  with  the  girl  to  the  grave,  and  then 
brought  her  to  her  own  little  nook  in  the  old  mansion,  for 
Clara  had  said  she  had  no  relatives  that  she  knew  anything 
about  except  a  few  on  her  father's  side,  and  she  had  rather 
goto  a  station-house  than  to  them.  "Don't  talk  habout 
station  'ouses  till  yer  can  see  vat  I  kin  do  for  yer,"  the 
good  woman  had  said  in  her  hearty  way,  and  she  did  play 
the  good  Samaritan  so  well,  and  poured  the  ' '  oil  and  wine' ' 
of  kindness  into  the  poor  creature's  wounds  so  effectually, 
that  she  began  to  change  for  the  better  daily. 

Mildred  redeemed  Belle's  promise,  and  between  them  all 
they  soon  fitted  Clara  for  her  trip  to  the  country.  By  the 
time  Mrs.  Atwood's  reply  reached  Mildred,  and  Roger's 
hearty  answer  came  back  in  response  to  Belle's  characteristic 
note,  she  was  ready  to  go.  "There's  a  man's  hand  for 
you,"  cried  Belle  exultantly  as  she  exhibited  Roger's  bold 
chirography.  "It's  a  hand  that  can  be  depended  upon, 
strong  and  ready." 

Mildred  smiled  as  she  replied,  "  You' re  welcome  toil, 
Belle." 

"You  needn't  smile  so  placidly,"  she  retorted,  with  an 
ominous  nod.  "We  are  not  through  with  Roger  Atwood 
yet." 


208  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

Perhaps  quotations  from  two  letters  written  by  Clavj,  to 
Mildred  and  Belle,  and  received  a  week  later,  will  forr»i  a 
satisfactory  ending  to  this  chapter.  Clara  had  been  taught 
to  read  and  write  in  the  public  schools  of  the  city,  and  but 
little  more.  In  later  years  she  had  occasionally  found  op 
portunity  to  attend  some  of  the  night  schools  established  for 
those  whose  only  leisure  came  after  the  busy  day  was  over, 
and  so  had  learned  to  use  her  pen  with  tolerable  correctness. 
In  waiting  upon  the  educated  people  who  frequented  the 
shop  she  had  caught,  with  the  aptness  of  an  American  girl,  a 
very  fair  power  of  expressing  herself  in  speech.  Writing  a 
letter,  however,  was  a  formidable  affair,  in  which  she  had 
scarcely  any  experience.  Her  missives,  therefore,  were  very 
simple,  and  somewhat  defective  in  outward  form,  but  they 
suggested  some  interesting  facts. 

"DEAR  MILLIE  (ran  the  first)  :  I'm  very  sad  and  hapy. 
The  Countrys  like  heven.  All  are  so  kind.  Even  the  dog 
dosen't  grole  at  me,  and  Mr.  Roger  says  that's  queer  for  he 
groles  at  everybody.  I  feel  so  much  better  I  don't  know 
myself.  I  feel  like  takin  depe  breths  of  air  all  the  time  and 
I  never  tasted  such  milk.  Every  glass  puts  life  in  me.  If  I 
can  get  work  up  here  I'll  never  go  back  to  town  and  stand 
all  day  again.  The  girls  up  here  have  a  chance  to  live — they 
haven't  any  chance  at  all  in  a  store.  The  strongest  will 
brake  down  and  then  they  are  good  for  nothing.  I  wish 
Belle  could  do  something  else.  I  wish  thousands  would  go 
in  the  country  and  do  work  that  would  make  us  look  like 
Susan.  Mrs.  Atwood  thinks  she  can  find  me  a  place  with 
kind  people,  where  I'll  be  treted  almost  like  one  of  the  fam 
ily.  Anyway  I've  had  enough  of  standing  and  bad  air  and 
starving  and  I  don't  see  why  working  in  a  farmhouse  ain't 
just  as  ladylike  as  wating  on  folks  with  the  floorwalker 
awatchin  you  like  a  slave  driver.  Standing  all  day  is  deth  ta 


BELLE  JARS  THE  "  S  YS TEM. "  2 09 

most  girls  and  about  the  hardest  deth  they  can  die.     I  feel 
as  if  I  could  live  to  be  a  hundred  up  here. 

' '  Millie,  dear,  I  read  the  Bible  you  gave  me  and  I  pray 
for  you  and  Beile  every  night  and  morning  and  He  answers. 
I  know  it.  I  love  you  very  much  and  I've  good  reason. 

000(1  ^  -CLARA  BUTE." 

Her  letter  to  Belle  was  more  descriptive  of  her  daily  life, 
of  the  kindness  she  received  on  every  hand.  One  brief  ex 
tract  from  it  will  suffice  : 

"I've  got  well  acquainted  with  Roger,"  she  wrote. 
"  He's  easy  to  get  acquainted  with.  Now  I  think  of  it 
though  he  says  little  or  nothing  about  himself  but  he  leads 
me  to  talk  and  tell  about  you  all  in  a  way  that  surprises  me. 
If  his  interest  was  prying  I'm  sure  I  wouldn't  have  told 
him  anything.  I  know  well  now  it  isn't.  Does  Millie 
know  how  he  feels  toward  her  ?  I  saw  it  all  last  night.  I 
was  telling  him  about  my  past  life  and  how  poor  and  forlorn 
we  had  been  and  how  I  had  told  Millie  all  about  it  and  then 
how  Millie  had  just  treted  me  as  if  I  were  as  good  as  she 
was.  As  I  talked  he  became  so  white  I  thought  he'd  faint. 
Suddenly  he  burst  out  despairingly,  '  I  hoped  she  was  proud 
but  she  isn't — I  could  overcome  pride.  But  what  can  I  do 
when  I'm  just  detested?  There,  I've  made  a  fool  of  my 
self,'  he  said  savagelike  after  a  moment,  and  he  hurried 
away.  For  the  last  two  days  he's  been  so  quiet  and  looked 
so  stern  and  sad  that  his  family  don't  know  what  to  make  of 
him,  but  I  know  what's  the  matter,  and  I  feel  sorry  for  him, 
for  he  seems  to  me  more  like  a  man  than  any  of  the  young 
fellows  I've  seen  in  town.  Don't  tell  Millie  for  I  don't 
want  to  even  seem  to  meddle. ' ' 

But  Belle  had  no  gift  of  reticence,  and  she  not  only  showed 
her  sister  the  letter,  but  overwhelmed  her  with  reproaches  for 


2JO  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

her  "heartless  treatment  of  Roger."  As  a  natural  result 
Mildred  was  only  more  irritated  and  prejudiced  against  the 
young  man  than  ever. 

"  You  are  all  absurdly  unreasonable, "  she  cried.  "  What 
have  I  ever  done  to  make  him  turn  white  or  red,  or  to 
'burst  out  despairingly,'  and  all  that  kind  of  sentimental 
nonsense  ?  Because  he  is  lackadaisical  and  is  experiencing 
strange,  vague  emotions,  must  I  be  afflicted  in  like  manner  ? 
Must  I  break  faith  with  one  I  do  love  and  do  violence  to 
my  own  feelings,  just  because  this  farmer  wants  me  to  ? 
You  know  what' s  the  matter  with  him — Clara  saw  at  a  glance 
— and  the  course  I'm  taking  is  the  only  way  to  cure  him. 
All  his  talk  about  friendship  is  transparent  folly.  If  I  took 
your  advice  it  would  make  him  only  more  and  more  infatu 
ated  ;  and  now  I  haven't  it  on  my  conscience  that  I  gave 
him  one  bit  of  encouragement.  I'm  sorry  for  him,  of 
course.  I  shall  be  more  sorry  for  his  mother  and  sister  if  he 
is  guilty  of  the  folly  of  leaving  home.  If,  instead  of  doing 
his  duty  by  them,  he  comes  mooning  after  me  here,  when  he 
knows  it  is  of  no  use,  I  shall  lose  my  respect  for  him  utterly. ' ' 
There  seemed  so  much  downright  common-sense  in  this 
view  of  the  affair  that  even  Belle  found  no  words  in  reply. 
Her  reason  took  Mildred's  part,  but  her  warm  little  heart  led 
her  to  shake  her  head  ominously  at  her  sister,  and  then 
sleepily  she  sought  the  rest  her  long,  tiresome  day  required. 


SE  VERAL  Q  UIE  T  FORCES  A  T  WORK.  2 1 1 


CHAPTER   XX. 

SEVERAL   QUIET   FORCES  AT  WORK. 

PRECIPITOUS  ascents  and  descents  do  not  constitute 
the  greater  part  of  life's  journey.  In  the  experience  of 
very  many  they  occur  more  or  less  frequently,  but  they  con 
duct  to  long  intervals  where  the  way  is  comparatively  level, 
although  it  may  be  flinty,  rough,  and  hedged  with  thorns. 
More  often  the  upward  trend  or  the  decline  of  our  paths 
is  so  slight  as  not  to  be  noticed  as  we  pass  on,  but  at  the  end 
of  years  we  can  know  well  whether  we  are  gaining  or  losing. 

The  Jocelyns,  in  common  with  thousands  of  others,  had 
made  a  swift  descent  from  a  position  of  comparative  affluence 
to  one  of  real,  though  not  repulsive,  poverty.  There  was 
nothing,  however,  in  their  fall  that  cast  a  shadow  upon  them 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world  except  as  the  unfortunate  are  always 
1 '  under  a  cloud  ' '  to  the  common  herd  that  moves  together 
in  droves  only  where  the  sunlight  of  prosperity  falls.  If  Mr. 
Jocelyn  could  regain  his  former  position,  or  a  better  one, 
there  had  been  nothing  in  his  brief  obscurity  that  would  pre 
vent  his  wife  and  daughters  from  stepping  back  into  their  old 
social  place,  with  all  its  privileges  and  opportunities. 

The  reader  knows,  however,  that  his  prospects  were  be 
coming  more  and  more  dubious — that  each  day  added  a 
rivet  to  the  chain  that  an  evil  habit  was  forging.  His  family 
did  not  even  suspect  this,  although  the  impression  was  grow 
ing  upon  them  that  his  health  was  becoming  impaired. 
They  were  beginning  to  accommodate  themselves  to  life  at 


212  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

its  present  level,  and  the  sense  of  its  strangeness  was  passing 
slowly  away.  This  was  especially  true  of  Belle  and  the  chil 
dren,  upon  whom  the  past  had  but  a  comparatively  slight 
hold.  Mildred,  from  her  nature  and  tastes,  felt  the  change 
more  keenly  than  any  of  the  others,  and  she  could  never  for 
get  that  it  raised  a  most  formidable  barrier  against  her  dearest 
hopes.  Mrs.  Jocelyn  also  suffered  greatly  from  the  privations 
of  her  present  lot,  and  her  delicate  organization  was  scarcely 
equal  to  the  tasks  and  burdens  it  imposed.  As  far  as  possible 
she  sought  to  perform  the  domestic  duties  that  were  more 
suited  to  the  stout,  red  arms  of  those  accustomed  to  such 
labors.  It  seemed  essential  that  Mildred  and  Belle  should 
give  their  strength  to  supplementing  their  father's  small 
income,  for  a  time  at  least,  though  all  were  living  in  hope 
that  this  necessity  would  soon  pass  away.  The  family  was 
American,  and  Southern  at  that,  in  the  idea  that  bread-win 
ning  was  not  woman's  natural  province,  but  only  one  of  the 
direful  penalties  of  extreme  poverty.  The  working-woman 
of  the  South  belonged  to  a  totally  different  class  from  that  in 
which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  had  their  origin,  and  prejudices 
die  hard,  even  among  people  who  are  intelligent,  and,  in 
most  respects,  admirable.  To  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  her  daugh 
ters  work  was  infinitely  preferable  to  dependence,  but  it  was 
nevertheless  menial  and  undignified  because  of  its  almost  in 
voluntary  and  hereditary  association  with  a  race  of  bond 
servants.  He  is  superficial  indeed  in  his  estimate  of  charac 
ter  who  thinks  that  people  can  change  their  views  and  feelings 
in  response  to  a  brief  demonstration  of  the  essential  dignity 
of  labor,  especially  after  generations  of  accumulating  pride  of 
caste  have  been  giving  the  mind  a  different  bent.  Moreover, 
this  family  of  Southern  origin  had  not  seen  in  the  city  of  New 
York  very  much  confirmation  of  the  boasted  Northern  ideas 
of  labor.  Social  status  depended  too  much  on  the  number 
of  servants  that  people  kept  and  the  style  in  which  they  lived. 


SEVERAL  QUIET  FORCES  AT  WORK.  213 

Poverty  had  brought  them  a  more  sudden  and  complete  loss 
of  recognition  than  would  have  been  possible  in  the  South — 
a  loss  which  they  would  not  have  felt  so  greatly  had  they 
wealthy  connections  in  town  through  whom  they  might  have 
retained,  in  part  at  least,  their  old  relations  with  people  of 
their  own  station. 

As  it  was,  they  found  themselves  almost  wholly  isolated. 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  did  not  regret  this  so  much  for  herself,  since 
her  family  was  about  all  the  society  she  craved  ;  moreover  in 
her  girlhood  she  had  been  accustomed  to  rather  remote 
plantation  life,  with  its  long  intervals  of  absence  of  society. 
Mr.  Jocelyn' s  business  took  him  out  among  men  even  more 
than  he  relished,  for  his  secret  indulgence  predisposed  to 
solitude  and  quiet.  He  was  living  most  of  the  time  in  an 
unreal  world,  and  inevitable  contact  with  his  actual  life  and 
surroundings  brought  him  increasing  distress. 

With  Belle  and  Mildred  it  was  different.  At  their  age 
society  and  recreation  were  as  essential  as  air  and  light. 
Many  are  exceedingly  uncharitable  toward  working-girls  be 
cause  they  are  often  found  in  places  of  resort  that  are,  with 
out  doubt,  objectionable  and  dangerous.  The  fact  is  ignored 
that  these  places  are  sought  from  a  natural  and  entirely  whole 
some  desire  for  change  and  enjoyment,  which  are  as  needful 
to  physical  and  moral  health  as  sunlight  to  a  plant.  They 
forget  that  these  normal  cravings  of  the  young  in  their  own 
families  find  many  and  safe  means  of  gratification  which  are 
practically  denied  to  the  tenement  population.  If,  instead 
of  harsh  judgments,  they  would  provide  for  the  poor  places 
of  cheap  and  innocent  resort ;  if,  instead  of  sighing  over  in 
nate  depravity,  they  would  expend  thought  and  effort  in  bring 
ing  sunshine  into  the  experiences  of  those  whose  lives  are 
deeply  shadowed  by  the  inevitable  circumstances  of  their  lot, 
they  would  do  far  more  to  exemplify  the  spirit  of  Him  who 
has  done  so  much  to  fill  the  world  with  light,  flowers,  and 
music. 


214  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

Mildred  began  to  brood  and  grow  morbid  in  her  monoto 
nous  work  and  seclusion  ;  and  irrepressible  Belle,  to  whom 
shop  life  was  becoming  an  old,  weary  story,  was  looking 
around  for  "pastures  new."  Her  nature  was  much  too 
forceful  for  anything  like  stagnation.  The  world  is  full  of 
such  natures,  and  we  cannot  build  a  dike  of  ' '  thou  shalt 
nots"  around  them  ;  for  sooner  or  later  they  will  overleap 
the  barriers,  and  as  likely  on  the  wrong  side  as  on  the  right. 
Those  who  would  save  and  bless  the  world  can  accomplish 
far  more  by  making  safe  channels  than  by  building  embank 
ments,  since  almost  as  many  are  ruined  by  undue  and  un 
wise  repression  as  by  equally  unwise  and  idiotic  indulgence. 

If  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  been  himself  he  might  have  provided 
much  innocent  and  healthful  recreation  for  his  family  ;  but 
usually  he  was  so  dreamy  and  stupid  in  the  evening  that  he 
was  left  to  doze  quietly  in  his  chair.  His  family  ascribed  his 
condition  to  weariness  and  reaction  from  his  long  strain  of 
anxiety  ;  and  opium  had  already  so  far  produced  its  legitimate 
results  that  he  connived  at  their  delusion  if  he  did  not  con 
firm  it  by  actual  assertion.  It  is  one  of  the  diabolical  quali 
ties  of  this  habit  that  it  soon  weakens  and  at  last  destroys  all 
truth  and  honor  in  the  soul,  eating  them  out  with  a  corrosive 
power  difficult  to  explain. 

For  the  first  week  or  two  Belle  was  glad  to  rest  in  the  even 
ings  from  the  intolerable  weariness  caused  by  standing  all  day, 
but  the  adaptability  of  the  human  frame  is  wonderful,  and 
many  at  last  become  accustomed,  and,  in  some  sense,  inured 
to  that  which  was  torture  at  first.  Belle  was  naturally  strong 
and  vigorous,  and  her  compact,  healthful  organism  endured 
the  cruel  demand  made  upon  it  far  better  than  the  majority 
of  her  companions.  Nature  had  endowed  her  with  a  very 
large  appetite  for  fun.  For  a  time  her  employment,  with  its 
novelty,  new  associations,  and  small  excitements,  furnished 
this,  but  now  her  duties  were  fading  into  prosaic  work,  and 


SE  VERAL  Q  UIE  T  FORCES  A  T  WORK.  2 1  5 

the  child  was  looking  around  for  something  enlivening. 
Where  in  the  great  city  could  she  find  it  ?  Before  their 
poverty  came  there  were  a  score  of  pretty  homes  like  her  own 
in  which  she  could  visit  schoolmates  ;  her  church  and  Sab 
bath-school  ties  brought  her  into  relation  with  many  of  her 
own  age  ;  and  either  in  her  own  home  or  in  those  of  her 
friends  she  took  part  in  breezy  little  festivities  that  gave  full 
and  healthful  scope  to  her  buoyant  nature.  She  was  not  over- 
fastidious  now,  but  when  occasionally  she  went  home  with 
some  of  her  companions  at  the  shop,  she  returned  dissatisfied. 
The  small  quarters  in  which  the  girls  lived  rendered  little 
confidential  chats — so  dear  to  girls — impossible,  and  she  was 
brought  at  once  into  close  contact  with  strange  and  often  re 
pulsive  people.  It  seemed  that  the  street  furnished  the  only 
privacy  possible,  except  as  she  brought  girls  to  her  own 
abode.  Her  mother  and  sister  were  very  considerate  in  this 
respect,  and  welcomed  all  of  her  acquaintances  who  appeared 
like  good,  well-meaning  girls  ;  and  Mildred  would  either  give 
up  her  share  of  their  little  room  for  the  time,  or  else  take  part 
in  their  talk  in  such  a  genial  way  as  to  make  the  visitors  at 
home  as  far  as  they  could  be  with  one  in  whom  they  recog 
nized  their  superior.  Their  light  talk  and  shop  gossip  were 
often  exceedingly  tiresome  to  Mildred,  but  she  felt  that  Belle 
needed  every  safeguard  within  their  power  to  furnish.  And 
this  privilege  of  welcoming  the  best  companions  her  circum 
stances  permitted  was  of  great  help  to  Belle,  and,  for  a  time, 
prevented  her  restless  spirit  from  longing  for  something  more 
decided  in  the  way  of  amusement.  Of  necessity,  however, 
anything  so  quiet  could  not  last  ;  but  where  could  the  girl 
find  pleasures  more  highly  colored  ?  Occasionally  she  would 
coax  or  scold  her  father  into  taking  her  out  somewhere,  but 
this  occurred  less  and  less  frequently,  for  she  was  made  to  feel 
that  his  health  required  absolute  rest  when  his  business  per 
mitted  it.  If  she  had  had  kind  brothers  the  case  would  have 


2l5  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

been  greatly  simplified,  but  thousands  of  working-girls  have 
no  brothers,  no  male  companions  save  those  acquaintances 
that  it  is  their  good  or,  more  often,  their  evil  fortune  to  make. 
Without  a  brother,  a  relative,  or  a  friend  deserving  the  name, 
how  is  a  young  girl,  restricted  to  a  boarding-house  or  a 
tenement,  to  find  safe  recreation  ?  Where  can  she  go  for  it 
on  the  great  majority  of  the  evenings  of  the  year  ?  Books 
and  papers  offer  a  resource  to  many,  and  Mildred  availed 
herself  of  them  to  her  injury.  After  sitting  still  much  of  the 
day  she  needed  greater  activity  in  the  evening.  Belle  was 
not  fond  of  reading,  as  multitudes  on  the  fashionable  ave 
nues  are  not.  The  well-to-do  have  many  other  resources— 
what  chances  had  she  ?  To  assert  that  working-girls  ought 
to  crave  profitable  reading  and  just  the  proper  amount  of 
hygienic  exercise  during  their  leisure,  and  nothing  more,  is 
to  be  like  the  engineer  who  said  that  a  river  ought  to  have 
been  half  as  wide  as  it  was,  and  then  he  could  build  a  bridge 
across  it.  The  problem  must  be  solved  as  it  exists. 

To  a  certain  extent  this  need  of  change  and  cheerful  recre 
ation  is  supplied  in  connection  with  some  of  the  mission 
chapels,  and  the  effort  is  good  and  most  commendable  as  far 
as  it  goes  ;  but  as  yet  the  family  had  formed  no  church  re 
lations.  Mildred,  Belle,  and  occasionally  Mrs.  Jocelyn  had 
attended  Sabbath  service  in  the  neighborhood.  They 
shrank,  however,  so  morbidly  from  recognition  that  they  had 
no  acquaintances  and  had  formed  no  ties.  They  had  a  prej 
udice  against  mission  chapels,  and  were  not  yet  willing  to 
identify  themselves  openly  with  their  poor  neighbors.  As 
yet  they  had  incurred  no  hostility  on  this  account,  for  their 
kindly  ways  and  friendliness  to  poor  Clara  had  won  the 
good -will  and  sympathy  of  all  in  the  old  mansion.  But  the 
differences  between  the  Jocelyns  and  their  neighbors  were 
too  great  for  any  real  assimilation,  and  thus,  as  we  have  said, 
they  were  thrown  mainly  on  their  own  resources.  Mrs, 


SE  VERAL  Q  UIE  T  FORCES  A  T  WORK.  2 1 7 

Wheaton  was  their  nearest  approach  to  a  friend,  and  very 
helpful  she  was  to  them  in  many  ways,  especially  in  relieving 
Mrs.  Jocelyn,  for  a  very  small  compensation,  from  her 
heavier  tasks.  The  good  woman,  however,  felt  even  more 
truly  than  they  thai  they  had  too  little  in  common  for  in 
timacy. 

There  is  one  amusement  always  open  to  working-girls  if 
they  are  at  all  attractive — the  street  flirtation.  To  their  honor 
it  can  be  said  that  comparatively  few  of  the  entire  number 
indulge  in  this  dangerous  pastime  from  an  improper  motive, 
the  majority  meaning  no  more  harm  or  evil  than  their  more 
fortunate  sisters  who  can  enjoy  the  society  of  young  men  in 
well  -  appointed  parlors.  In  most  instances  this  street  ac 
quaintance,  although  unhedged  by  safe  restrictions,  is  by  no 
means  indiscriminate.  The  young  men  are  brothers  or 
friends  of  companions,  or  they  are  employed  in  the  same 
establishment,  or  else  reside  in  the  neighborhood,  so  that 
usually  something  is  known  of  their  characters  and  antece 
dents,  and  the  desire  to  become  friendly  is  similar  to  that  in 
fluencing  the  young  people  of  country  neighborhoods.  As 
a  rule  these  young  people  have  few  opportunities  of  meeting 
save  in  the  streets  and  places  of  public  resort.  The  conditions 
of  life  in  a  great  city,  however,  differ  too  widely  from  those  of 
a  village  or  country  town,  where  every  one  is  well  known  and 
public  opinion  is  quick  and  powerful  in  its  restraints.  Social 
circles  are  too  loosely  organized  in  a  city ;  their  members 
from  necessity  are  generally  too  little  known  to  each  other  ; 
there  are  too  many  of  both  sexes  ready  to  take  advantage  of 
the  innocent  and  unwary,  and  their  opportunities  of  escape 
from  all  penalty  invite  the  crimes  suggested  by  their  evil 
natures.  Belle  had  been  often  warned,  and  she  had  so  much 
affection  for  her  mother  and  so  much  pride  that  she  did  not 
fall  readily  into  indiscretions  ;  nor  would  she  in  the  future  re 
spond,  without  considerable  self-restraint,  to  the  frequent 


2 1 8  Wl THO  UT  A  HOME. 

advances  which  she  never  failed  to  recognize,  however  distant 
she  might  appear,  and  she  would  not  have  possessed  a 
woman's  nature  had  she  been  indifferent  to  admiring  glances 
and  the  overtures  of  those  who  would  gladly  form  her  ac 
quaintance.  Still  it  must  be  admitted  that  her  good  resolu 
tions  were  fast  weakening  in  this  direction. 

Mildred's  dangers  were  quite  different  from  those  which 
assailed  Belle,  and  yet  they  were  very  grave  ones.  Her  mind 
and  heart  were  preoccupied.  She  was  protected  from  even 
the  desire  of  perilous  associations  and  pleasures  by  the  deli 
cacy  and  refinement  of  her  nature  and  her  Christian  princi 
ple.  She  shrank  from  social  contact  with  the  ruder  world  by 
which  she  was  now  surrounded  ;  she  felt  and  lived  like  one 
in  exile,  and  her  hope  was  to  return  to  her  native  land.  In 
the  mean  time  she  was  growing  pale,  languid,  morbid,  and, 
occasionally,  even  irritable,  from  the  lack  of  proper  exercise 
and  change.  She  was  not  discouraged  as  yet,  but  the  day  of 
deliverance  seemed  to  grow  more  distant.  Her  father  ap 
parently  was  declining  in  energy  and  health,  and  his  income 
was  very  small.  She  worked  long  hours  over  her  fancy  work, 
but  the  prices  paid  for  it  at  the  shops  were  so  small  that  she 
felt  with  a  growing  despondency  it  was  but  a  precarious  means 
of  support.  Their  first  month  in  the  old  mansion  was  draw 
ing  to  a  close,  and  they  had  been  compelled  to  draw  slightly 
on  the  small  sum  of  ready  money  still  remaining  after  pay 
ing  for  their  summer's  board.  They  still  had  a  few  articles 
in  storage,  having  retained  them  in  hope  of  moving,  at  no 
distant  time,  into  more  commodious  quarters. 

In  their  desire  for  economy  they  also  fell  into  the  very  com 
mon  error  of  buying  salt  fish  and  meat,  and  other  articles  of 
food  that  were  cheap  and  easily  prepared  rather  than  nutri 
tious,  and  Belle  was  inclined  to  make  her  lunch  on  pastry 
and  cake  instead  of  food.  In  teaching  them  a  better  way 
Mrs.  Wheaton  proved  herself  a  very  useful  friend.  "  Vat 


SEVERAL  QUIET  FORCES  AT  WORK.  2   9 

j-er  vant  is  sumthink  that  makes  blood  an'  stands  by  von, " 
she  had  said  ;  "  an'  this  'ere  salt,  dry  stuff  an'  light  baker's 
bread  and  tea  and  coffee  don't  do  this  hat  hall.  They's  good 
henough  as  relishes  an'  trimmins  an'  roundins  hoff,  but  they 
hain't  got  the  nourishin'  in 'em  that  vorking  people  vants. 
Buy  hoat  meal  an'  corn  meal — make  good  bread  of  yer 
hown.  Buy  good  but  cheap  chunks  of  beef  an'  mutton  an' 
vegetables,  an'  make  stews  an'  meat  pies  an'  rich  soups,  an' 
say  yer  prayers  hagainst  hall  trashy  things  as  hain't  vorth  the 
trouble  of  heatin'.  Heggs,  too,  ven  they're  plenty,  hare 
fust-rate,  an'  milk  is  better  than  so  much  tea  an'  coffee,  heven 
if  the  milkman  do  spill  it  in  the  brook  an'  pick  it  hout  hagain 
before  ve  get  it.  Vorkin'  hon  tea  an'  coffee  is  like  keepin' 
the  '  orse  hagoin'  on  a  vip  hinstead  of  hoats. ' ' 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  were  sensible  enough  to  take 
her  advice,  and  although  Belle  complained  at  first  over  the 
more  simple  and  wholesome  diet,  she  soon  felt  so  much  the 
better  for  it  that  she  made  no  further  trouble. 

As  had  been  the  case  at  the  farm-house,  Mildred  at  last 
awakened  to  the  evils  of  a  depressed  and  sedentary  life,  and 
felt  that  she  must  look  around  for  objects  of  interest.  She 
began  to  spend  more  time  with  Mrs.  Wheaton,  and  found 
considerable  amusement  in  her  homely  common-sense. 
The  good  woman  was  all  the  more  companionable  for  the 
reason  that  she  never  presumed  on  a  coarse  familiarity  or  in 
dulged  in  a  prying  interest.  Mildred  also  aided  the  Whea 
ton  children  in  their  lessons,  and  gave  more  time  to  her  own 
little  brother  and  sister,  taking  them  out  to  walk  in  the  cool 
of  the  day,  and  giving  much  thought,  while  she  plied  her 
needle,  to  various  little  expedients  that  would  keep  them 
content  to  remain  away  from  the  street  and  the  rude  children 
that  often  made  the  old  house  resound  with  boisterous  sport. 
Mrs.  Wheaton' s  children  were  in  the  main  well  behaved, 
and  there  was  much  visiting  back  and  forth  among  the  little 


220  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

people  of  the  two  families,  but  here  the  line  was  drawn,  and 
generally  with  very  good  reason.  After  all,  perhaps,  the  chief 
horror  of  tenement  life  to  a  family  like  the  Jocelyns  consisted 
in  the  fact  that  just  outside  their  door  were  hordes  of  prowl 
ing  little  savages  ignorant  in  the  main  of  civilization,  but 
prematurely  enlightened  as  to  its  vices.  To  prevent  the  in 
evitable  contamination  which  would  result  from  indiscrimi 
nate  association,  and  to  interest  Fred  and  Minnie  in  their 
daily  lessons,  was  the  constant  effort  of  both  Mildred  and 
Mrs.  Jocelyn.  And  yet,  as  at  the  farm-house,  Mildred's 
conscience  began  to  reproach  her  for  keeping  too  much  aloof 
from  the  people  who  dwelt  with  her  in  the  old  mansion.  It 
was  not  necessary  to  make  companions  of  them  in  order  to 
do  them  some  good,  and  in  aiding  them  to  bear  their  burdens 
she  might  in  part  forget  her  own.  Mrs.  Wheaton's  hearty 
kindness  permeated  the  house  like  an  atmosphere,  and  from 
her  Mildred  learned  the  character  and  circumstances  of  each 
family  quite  correctly.  "  I  can  get  hon  with  'em  hall  hex- 
cept  a  hold  daft  German  on  the  top  floor,  oos  a  bit  crazy 
hover  the  'evens,  but  don't  stand  much  chance  of  hever 
gettin'  hup  hinto  'em.  You've  hoften  seen  'ima-lookin'  at 
the  stars  an'  things  on  the  roof.  'E  'alf  starves  'is  family  to 
buy  books  an'  maps  an'  a  telescope.  'E  'ates  me  cos  I 
tried  to  talk  religion  to  'im  vonce  ven  'e  vas  sick,  an'  cos  I 
told  'im  'e  'ad  no  bizness  to  take  his  death  a' cold  on  the 
roof  o'  vinter  nights  ;  an  'ven  'e  vonce  gets  a  grudge  hagainst 
yer  'e  never  lets  hup." 

Mildred  had  already  become  more  interested  in  this  old 
man  than  in  any  other  of  her  neighbors  except  Mrs.  Whea- 
ton,  but  had  found  him  utterly  unapproachable.  Not  in 
frequently  she  spent  part  of  the  hot  evenings  on  the  platform 
built  over  the  old  hip-roof,  and  had  invariably  seen  him  there 
on  cloudless  nights  studying  the  skies  with  a  telescope  that 
appeared  to  be  by  no  means  a  toy  instrument ;  but  he  always 


SEVERAL  QUIET  FORCES  AT  WORK.  221 

took  possession  of  the  far  end  of  the  platform,  and  was  so 
savage  when  any  one  approached  that  even  Belle  was  afraid 
of  him.  His  wife,  for  a  wonder,  was  a  slattern  German,  and 
she  spoke  English  very  imperfectly.  With  her  several  small 
children  she  lived  in  a  chaotic  way,  keeping  up  a  perpetual 
whining  and  fault-finding,  half  under  her  breath  from  fear  of 
her  irascible  husband,  that  was  like  a  ' '  continual  dropping 
on  a  very  rainy  day. ' '  Every  now  and  then,  Mrs.  Wheaton 
said,  he  would  suddenly  emerge  from  his  abstraction  and 
break  out  against  her  in  a  volley  of  harsh,  guttural  German 
oaths  that  were  "  henough  to  make  von's  'air  riz."  There 
fore  it  very  naturally  happened  that  Mildred  had  become  ac 
quainted  with  all  the  other  families  before  she  had  even 
spoken  to  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Ulph.  On  the  other  inmates  of  the 
mansion  her  influence  soon  began  to  be  felt ;  for  almost  un 
consciously  she  exercised  her  rare  and  subtle  power  of  intro 
ducing  a  finer  element  into  the  lives  of  those  who  were  grow 
ing  sordid  and  material.  She  had  presented  several  families 
with  a  small  house-plant,  and  suggested  that  they  try  to  de 
velop  slips  from  others  that  she  sedulously  tended  in  her  own 
window.  In  two  or  three  instances  she  aided  untidy  and 
discouraged  women  to  make  their  rooms  more  attractive.  The 
fact,  also,  that  the  Jocelyns  had  made  their  two  apartments, 
that  were  little  if  any  better  than  the  others,  so  very  inviting 
had  much  weight,  and  there  sprang  up  quite  an  emulation 
among  some  of  the  simple  folk  in  making  the  most  of  their 
limited  resources. 

' '  Instead  of  scolding  your  husbands  for  going  out  and  per 
haps  taking  a  glass  too  much,  try  and  keep  them  home  by 
making  the  living-room  homelike,"  she  had  said  on  several 
occasions  to  complaining  wives  who  had  paved  the  way  by 
their  confidential  murmurings.  "  Have  some  extra  dish 
that  they  like  for  supper — they  will  spend  more  if  they  go 
out — then  be  a  little  smiling  and  chatty,  and  tell  them  to 


222  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

light  their  pipes  and  stay  with  you,  for  you  are  a  bit  lone 
some.  If  they  will  have  their  mug  of  beer,  coax  them  to 
take  it  here  at  home.  Try  to  put  a  few  shillings  in  the 
savings  bank  every  week,  and  talk  over  little  plans  of  saving 
more.  If  you  can  only  make  your  husbands  feel  that  they 
are  getting  ahead  a  little,  it  will  have  a  great  influence  in 
steadying  them  and  keeping  them  out  of  bad  company." 

Mildred  had  a  genius  for  everything  relating  to  domestic 
life,  and  an  almost  unbounded  belief  in  good  home  influences. 
Although  she  rarely  talked  religion  directly  to  the  people 
whom  she  was  trying  to  benefit — she  was  much  too  diffident 
and  self-depreciative  for  this — her  regular  attendance  at  some 
place  of  worship  on  the  Sabbath  and  her  course  toward  poor 
Mrs.  Bute  and  her  daughter  had  given  the  impression  that 
she  was  a  very  religious  girl,  and  that  her  motives  were  Chris 
tian  in  character.  People's  instincts  are  quick  in  discerning 
the  hidden  springs  of  action  ;  and  her  influence  was  all  the 
more  effective  because  she  gave  them  the  fruits  of  faith  rather 
than  stems  of  exhortation  on  which  they  were  required  to  de 
velop  fruit  of  their  own.  Much  good  fruit  was  eventually 
produced,  but  more  through  her  example,  her  spring-like  in 
fluence,  than  from  any  formal  instruction. 


"HE'S  A  MAN."  223 


CHAPTER   XXI. 
"HE'S  A  MAN." 

MRS.  WHEATON,  although  she  had  the  good  taste  to 
ask  few  questions,  was  much  puzzled  over  the  Joce- 
lyns.  Mr.  Jocelyn's  state  of  health  seemed  to  her  very  pe 
culiar,  and  her  shrewd,  unprejudiced  mind  was  approaching 
Roger's  conclusion,  that  he  was  a  little  "  off."  With  an  in 
sight  common  to  sound,  thrifty  people,  she  saw  that  the  out 
look  for  this  family  was  dubious.  She  believed  that  the 
father  would  become  less  and  less  of  a  reliance,  that  Mrs. 
Jocelyn  was  too  delicate  to  cope  with  a  lower  and  grimmer 
phase  of  poverty,  which  she  feared  they  could  not  escape. 
When  alone  she  often  shook  her  head  in  foreboding  over 
Belle's  brilliant  black  eyes,  being  aware  from  long  experi 
ence  among  the  poor  how  dangerous  are  such  attractions, 
especially  when  possessed  by  an  impulsive  and  unbalanced 
child.  She  even  sighed  more  deeply  and  often  over  Mildred, 
for  she  knew  well  that  more  truly  than  any  of  the  house- 
plants  in  the  window  the  young  girl  who  cared  for  them  was 
an  exotic  that  might  fade  and  die  in  the  changed  and  un 
favorable  conditions  of  her  present  and  prospective  life.  The 
little  children,  too,  were  losing  the  brown  and  ruddy  hues 
they  had  acquired  on  the  Atwood  farm,  and  very  naturally 
chafed  over  their  many  and  unwonted  restrictions. 

Nor  did  the  city  missionary  whom  she  had  called  in  to 
attend  Mrs.  Bute's  funeral  illumine  the  Jocelyn  problem  for 
the  good  woman.  He  was  an  excellent  man,  but  lamentably 


224  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

deficient  in  tact,  being  prone  to  exhort  on  the  subject  of 
religion  in  season,  and  especially  out  of  season,  and  in 
much  the  same  way  on  all  occasions.  Since  the  funeral  he 
had  called  two  or  three  times,  and  had  mildly  and  rather 
vaguely  harangued  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred.  Instead  of 
echoing  his  pious  platitudes  with  murmurs  of  assent  and  ap 
proval,  they  had  been  very  polite,  and  also  very  reticent  and 
distant ;  and  Mr.  Woolling — that  was  his  name — had  said  in 
confidence  to  Mrs.  Wheaton  that  "  they  might  be  good 
people,  but  he  feared  they  were  not  yet  altogether  '  in  the 
light. '  They  seemed  a  little  cold  toward  the  good  cause, 
and  were  not  inclined  to  talk  freely  of  their  spiritual  experi 
ences  and  relations.  Probably  it  was  because  they  were  not 
altogether  orthodox  in  their  views." 

It  would  seem  that  this  worthy  person  had  taken  literally 
the  promise  of  his  Master,  ' '  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men," 
for  he  was  quite  content  to  be  a  fisher.  Let  us  hope  that 
occasionally,  as  by  a  miracle,  his  lenient  Master  enabled  him 
to  catch  some  well-disposed  sinner  ;  but  as  a  rule  his  man 
nerism,  his  set  phrases,  his  utter  lack  of  magnetism  and  ap 
preciation  of  the  various  shades  of  character  with  which  he 
was  dealing,  repelled  even  those  who  respected  his  motive 
and  mission.  Sensitive,  sad-hearted  women  like  Mrs.  Joce 
lyn  and  Mildred  could  no  more  open  their  hearts  to  him 
than  to  a  benevolent  and  impersonal  board  of  trustees  sitting 
around  a  green  baize  table?  That  detestable  class,  however, 
who  thrive  on  opening  their  hearts  and  dilating  on  their 
spiritual  experiences,  could  talk  to  him,  as  he  would  say,  in 
a  "  most  edifying  and  godly  manner,"  and  through  him,  in 
consequence,  reap  all  the  pecuniary  advantages  within  his 
power  to  bestow. 

It  is  not  the  blatant  and  plausible  poor  who  suffer,  but 
those  who  hide  their  poverty  and  will  starve  rather  than  trade 
on  their  faith  ;  and  too  often  Christian  and  charitable  organi- 


"HE'S  A   MAN."  22$ 

nations  prove  they  are  not  the  "  children  of  this  world  "  by 
employing  agents  so  lacking  in  fitness  for  the  work  that  a 
commercial  firm,  following  a  like  policy,  would  soon  com 
pass  its  own  failure.  The  Church  deserves  slight  progress 
if  it  fails  to  send  its  best  and  most  gifted  men  and  women 
among  the  poor  and  vicious.  Mr.  Woolling  was  a  sincere, 
well-meaning  man,  but  he  no  more  knew  how  to  catch  men 
with  a  Christ-like  magnetism  and  guile  than  how  to  render 
one  of  Beethoven's  symphonies  ;  and  he  was  so  constituted 
that  he  could  never  learn.  It  was  an  open  question  whether 
he  did  not  do  more  harm  than  good  ;  and  those  who  em 
ployed  him  might  and  ought  to  have  known  the  fact. 

Fortunately  for  the  Jocelyns,  there  were  other  workers  in 
that  part  of  the  vineyard,  and  Mrs.  Wheaton  had  said  to  her 
self  more  than  once,  ' '  Ven  my  young  lady  comes '  ome  she'  11 
git  'old  of  these  'ere  people  and  make  things  better  for  'em." 
One  day,  about  the  middle  of  September,  there  was  a  light 
knock  at  the  door  of  the  large  living-room  that  had  been 
made  so  inviting.  Mildred  opened  it  and  admitted  a  young 
woman,  who  appeared  not  very  much  older  than  herself,  and 
who  she  saw  at  a  glance  was  of  her  own  class  in  respect  to 
refinement  and  cultivation.  Although  entire  strangers,  the 
eyes  of  the  two  girls  met  in  woman's  intuitive  recognition. 

"  This  is  Miss  Jocelyn,  I  think,"  said  the  visitor  in  an  ac 
cent  that  to  the  poor  girl  sounded  like  her  native  tongue,  so 
long  unheard. 

"  You  are  correct,"  replied  Mildred,  with  exploring  eyes 
and  a  quiet  and  distant  manner.  "  Will  you  please  be  seat 
ed,  ' '  she  added  after  a  moment,  as  the  young  lady  evidently 
wished  to  enter. 

It  was  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  room  had  its  usual  pretty 
order  at  that  hour.  Fred  and  Minnie  were  seated  by  Mrs. 
Jocelyn,  who  was  giving  them  their  daily  lesson  from  an 
illustrated  primer  ;  and  they,  with  their  mother,  turned  ques- 


226  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

tioning  eyes  on  the  unexpected  guest,  who  won  their  good 
will  almost  instantly  by  a  sunshiny  smile.  Then  turning  to 
Mildred  she  began,  with  a  quiet,  well-bred  ease  which  made 
her  visit  seem  perfectly  natural,  "  We  are  now  strangers, 
but  I  trust  we  shall  not  remain  such  very  long.  Indeed,  I 
am  already  sure  that  you  can  help  me  very  much. ' '  (This 
asking  help  instead  of  offering  it  was  certainly  adroit  policy. ) 
"  I  am  a  Christian  worker  in  this  district.  My  name  is 
Alice  Wetheridge.  I  am  well  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Whea- 
ton,  and  the  little  she  has  told  me  about  you  has  made  me 
wish  to  know  you  well  ;  and  I  trust  you  will  meet  me  with 
the  spirit  in  which  I  come — that  of  honest  friendliness  and 
respect.  I  shall  be  just  as  frank  with  you  as  you  wish,  and 
I  know  you  have  just  as  much  right  to  your  feelings  and 
views  as  I  have  to  mine.  It  is  our  plan  of  work  to  co-work 
cordially,  asking  each  one  to  choose  her  own  place  and  kind 
of  effort.  I  have  been  around  among  some  of  rny  families 
in  this  house,  and,  if  you  will  permit  me  to  say  it,  I  have  seen 
your  influence,  and  I  think  it  is  most  Christian  and  womanly. 
You  can  scarcely  blame  me,  then,  if  I  hope  to  find  in  you  a 
congenial  fellow-worker." 

These  remarks  contained  no  hint  of  poverty  or  inferior 
ity,  and  might  have  been  made  to  Mildred  in  her  old  home. 
The  sweet,  low  voice  in  which  they  were  spoken  was  sooth 
ing  and  winning,  while  her  visitor's  gaze  was  direct  and  sin 
cere.  Mildred  smiled  with  a  little  answering  friendliness  as 
she  said,  "  Please  do  not  expect  much  from  me.  I  fear  I 
shall  disappoint  you." 

"  I  shall  not  expect  anything  more  than  your  own  feelings 
prompt  and  your  own  conscience  can  warrant.  I  and  some 
friends  have  classes  at  a  mission  chapel  not  far  from  here,  and 
all  I  ask  at  first  is  that  you  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  attend  service 
at  the  chapel  and  see  how  you  like  us  and  how  you  like  our 
minister." 


"  HE'S  A  MAN."  227 

"  ls — is  his  name  Mr.  Woolling  ?"  faltered  Mildred. 

A  slight,  evanescent  smile  flitted  across  the  visitor's  face. 
"  No,"  she  said,  "  that  is  not  his  name.  Our  minister  has 
just  returned  from  Europe,  where  he  has  taken  a  well-de 
served  vacation.  I,  too,  have  only  come  in  town  within  the 
last  few  days,  otherwise  I  do  not  think  you  would  have 
escaped  us  so  long, ' '  she  concluded,  with  a  bright  smile,  but 
after  a  moment  she  added  earnestly,  "  Please  do  not  think 
that  we  shall  try  to  force  upon  you  associations  that  may  not 
be  pleasant.  We  only  ask  that  you  come  and  judge  for 
yourselves. ' ' 

"  What  you  ask  is  certainly  reasonable,"  said  Mildred 
thoughtfully,  and  with  an  inquiring  glance  at  her  mother. 

' '  I  agree  with  you,  Millie, ' '  her  mother  added  with  gentle 
emphasis,  for  she  had  been  observing  their  visitor  closely ; 
"  and  I  think  we  both  appreciate  Miss  Wetheridge's  motive 
in  calling  upon  us,  and  can  respond  in  like  spirit." 

"  I  thank  you,"  was  the  cordial  reply.  "  On  this  card  is 
written  my  address  and  where  to  find  our  chapel,  the  hours 
of  service,  etc.  Please  ask  for  me  next  Sabbath  afternoon, 
and  I  will  sit  with  you,  so  you  won' t  feel  strange,  you  know. 
After  the  service  is  over  we  will  remain  a  few  moments,  and  I 
will  introduce  you  to  our  minister.  As  I  said  at  first,  if  you 
don't  like  us  or  our  ways  you  must  not  feel  in  the  least  tram 
melled.  However  that  may  be,  I  trust  you  will  let  me 
come  and  see  you  sometimes.  It  was  my  duty  to  call  upon 
you  because  you  were  in  my  district ;  but  now  it  will  be  a 
pleasure  to  which  I  hope  you  will  let  me  look  forward." 

;<  You  will  be  welcome,"  said  Mildred  smilingly.  "  I 
can  at  least  promise  so  much." 

Miss  Wetheridge  had  slipped  off  her  glove  while  talking, 
and  in  parting  she  gave  a  warm,  friendly  palm  to  those  she 
wished  to  win.  She  had  intended  only  a  smiling  leave-taking 
of  the  children,  but  they  looked  so  pretty,  and  were  regard- 


228  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

ing  her  with  such  an  expression  of  shy,  pleased  interest,  that 
she  acted  on  her  impulse  and  kissed  them  both.  "  I  don't 
often  meet  such  kissable  children,"  she  said,  with  a  brighv 
flush,  "  and  I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation." 

The  room  seemed  lighter  the  rest  of  the  day  for  her  visit. 
If  she  had  kissed  the  children  out  of  policy  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
would  have  been  resentfully  aware  of  the  fact ;  but  they  were 
"  kissable"  children,  and  no  one  knew  it  better  than  the  fond 
mother,  who  was  won  completely  by  the  spontaneity  of  the 
act. 

"  Millie,  I  think  I'd  go  to  her  church,  even  if  Mr.  Wool- 
ling  were  the  minister, ' '  she  said,  with  her  sweet  laugh. 

"Soft-hearted  little  mother!"  cried  Mildred  gay  ly  ;  "if 
people  only  knew  it,  you  have  one  very  vulnerable  side. 
That  was  a  master-stroke  on  the  part  of  Miss  Wetheridge." 

"  She  didn't  mean  it  as  such,  and  if  some  good  people  had 
kissed  the  children  I'd  have  washed  their  faces  as  soon  as 
they  had  gone.  The  visit  has  done  you  good,  too,  Millie." 

' '  Well,  I  admit  it  has.  It  was  nice  to  see  and  hear  one 
of  our  own  people,  and  to  feel  that  we  were  not  separated  by 
an  impassable  gulf.  To  tell  the  truth,  I  feel  the  need  of 
something  outside  of  this  old  house.  I  am  beginning  to 
mope  and  brood.  I  fear  it  will  be  some  time  before  the  way 
opens  back  to  our  former  life,  and  one  grows  sickly  if  one 
lives  too  long  in  the  shade.  I  could  work  with  such  a  girl  as 
that,  for  she  wouldn't  humiliate  me.  See,  her  card  shows 
that  she  lives  on  Fifth  Avenue.  If  she  can  work  in  a  mission 
chapel,  I  can,  especially  since  she  is  willing  to  touch  me 
with  her  glove  off,"  she  concluded,  with  a  significant  smile. 

As  the  evening  grew  shadowy  Mildred  took  the  children 
out  for  their  walk,  and,  prompted  by  considerable  curiosity, 
she  led  the  way  to  Fifth  Avenue,  and  passed  the  door  on 
which  was  inscribed  the  number  printed  on  Miss  Wetheridge' s 
card.  The  mansion  was  as  stately  and  gave  as  much  evi- 


"HE'S  A  MAN."  229 

dence  of  wealth  as  Mrs.  Arnold' s  home.  At  this  moment  a 
handsome  carriage  drew  up  to  the  sidewalk,  and  Mildred, 
turning,  blushed  vividly  as  she  met  the  eyes  of  her  new  ac 
quaintance,  who,  accompanied  by  a  fashionably-attired  young 
man,  had  evidently  been  out  to  drive.  Mildred  felt  that  she 
had  no  right  to  claim  recognition,  for  a  young  woman  mak 
ing  mission  calls  in  her  ' '  district' '  and  the  same  young  lady 
on  Fifth  Avenue  with  her  fiance,  very  probably,  might  be, 
and  often  are,  two  very  distinct  persons.  The  girl  was  about 
to  pass  on  with  downcast  eyes  and  a  hot  face,  feeling  that 
her  curiosity  had  been  well  punished.  But  she  had  not 
taken  three  steps  before  a  pleasant  voice  said  at  her  side, 
"  Miss  Jocelyn,  what  have  I  done  that  you  won't  speak  to 
me  ?  This  is  my  home,  and  I  hope  you  will  come  and  see 
me  some  time. ' ' 

Mildred  looked  at  the  speaker  searchingly  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  in  a  low  tone  and  with  tearful  eyes,  "  May 
you  never  exchange  a  home  like  this,  Miss  Wetheridge,  for 
one  like  mine." 

' '  Should  it  be  my  fortune  to  do  so — and  why  may  it  not  ? 
— I  hope  I  may  accept  of  my  lot  with  your  courage,  Miss 
Jocelyn,  and  give  to  my  humbler  home  the  same  impress  of 
womanly  refinement  that  you  have  imparted  to  yours.  Be 
lieve  me,  I  respected  you  and  your  mother  thoroughly  the 
moment  I  crossed  your  threshold. ' ' 

"  I  will  do  whatever  you  wish  me  to  do,"  washer  relevant, 
although  seemingly  irrelevant,  reply. 

"  That's  a  very  big  promise,"  said  Miss  Wetheridge  viva 
ciously  ;  ' '  we  will  shake  hands  to  bind  the  compact, ' '  and 
her  attendant  raised  his  hat  as  politely  as  he  would  to  any  of 
his  companion's  friends. 

Mildred  went  home  with  the  feeling  that  the  leaden  monot 
ony  of  her  life  was  broken.  The  hand  of  genuine  Christian 
sympathy,  not  charity  or  patronage,  had  been  reached  across 


230  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

the  chasm  of  her  poverty,  and  by  it  she  justly  hoped  that  she 
might  be  led  into  new  relations  that  would  bring  light  and 
color  into  her  shadowed  experience. 

With  her  mother  and  Belle  she  went  to  the  chapel  on  the 
following  Sunday  afternoon,  and  found  her  new  friend  on  the 
watch  for  them.  The  building  was  plain  but  substantial, 
and  the  audience-room  large  and  cheerful  looking.  Mr. 
Woolling  was,  in  truth,  not  the  type  of  the  tall,  rugged-featured 
man  who  sat  on  the  platform  pulpit,  and  Mildred,  at  first, 
was  not  prepossessed  in  his  favor,  but  as  he  rose  and  began 
to  speak  she  felt  the  magnetism  of  a  large  heart  and  brain  ; 
and  when  he  began  to  preach  she  found  herself  yielding  to 
the  power  of  manly  Christian  thought  expressed  in  honest 
Saxon  words  devoid  of  any  trace  of  affectation,  scholasticism, 
and  set  phraseology.  He  spoke  as  any  sensible,  practical 
man  would  speak  concerning  a  subject  in  which  he  believed 
thoroughly  and  was  deeply  interested,  and  he  never  once 
gave  the  impression  that  he  was"  delivering  a  sermon"  which 
was  foreordained  to  be  delivered  at  that  hour.  It  was  a  mes 
sage  rather  than  a  sermon,  a  sincere  effort  to  make  the  people 
understand  just  what  God  wished  them  to  know  concerning 
the  truth  under  consideration,  and  especially  what  they  were 
to  do  in  view  of  it.  The  young  girl  soon  reached  the  con 
clusion  that  the  religion  taught  in  this  chapel  was  not  some 
thing  fashioned  to  suit  the  world,  but  a  controlling  principle 
that  brought  the  rich  and  poor  together  in  their  obedience  to 
Him  whose  perfect  life  will  ever  be  the  law  of  the  Christian 
Church.  The  attention  of  even  mercurial  Belle  was  obtained 
and  held,  and  at  the  close  of  the  address  she  whispered, 
"  Millie,  that  man  talks  right  to  one,  and  not  fifty  miles  over 
your  head.  I'll  come  here  every  Sunday  if  you  will." 

After  the  benediction  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wentworth  came  down 
from  the  pulpit — not  in  a  bustling,  favor-currying  style,  but 
with  a  grave,  kindly  manner — to  speak  to  those  who  wished 


"HE'S  A  MAN."  231 

to  see  him.  When  he  at  last  reached  Mildred,  she  felt  him 
looking  at  her  in  a  way  that  proved  he  was  not  scattering  his 
friendly  words  as  a  handful  of  coin  is  thrown  promiscuously 
to  the  poor.  He  was  giving  thought  to  her  character  and 
need  ;  he  was  exercising  his  invaluable  but  lamentably  rare 
gift  of  tact  in  judging  how  he  should  address  these  "  new 
people"  of  whom  Miss  Wetheridge  had  spoken.  His  words 
were  few  and  simple,  but  he  made  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mil 
dred  feel  that  his  interest  in  them  was  not  official,  but  gen 
uine,  Christian,  and  appreciative.  Belle  very  naturally  shrank 
into  the  background.  Her  acquaintance  with  clergymen 
was  not  extensive,  nor  would  it,  I  fear,  ever  have  been  in 
creased  by  any  efforts  of  her  own  ;  therefore  it  was  with 
some  trepidation  that  she  saw  Mr.  Wentworth  giving  her  an 
occasional  side  glance  while  talking  to  her  mother.  She  was 
about  to  bow  very  formally  when  introduced,  but  a  smile 
broke  over  the  man's  rugged  features  like  a  glow  of  sunshine, 
as  he  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  "  Miss  Belle,  I  know  you 
and  I  would  be  good  friends  if  we  had  a  chance. ' ' 

The  girl's  impulsive  nature  responded  as  if  touched  by  an 
electric  spark,  and  with  her  usual  directness  the  words  in  her 
mind  were  spoken.  "  I  like  you  already,"  she  said. 

"  The  liking  is  mutual  then,"  was  Mr.  Wentworth' s  laugh 
ing  reply  ;  "I'm  coming  to  see  you." 

"  But,  sir,"  stammered  the  honest  child,  "I'm  not  good 
like  my  sister  " 

The  clergyman  now  laughed  heartily.  "  All  the  more 
reason  I  should  come, ' '  he  said. 

"  Well,  then,  please  come  in  the  evening,  for  I  wouldn't 
miss  your  visit  for  the  world. ' ' 

"  I  certainly  shall,"  and  he  named  an  evening  early  in  the 
week  ;  "  and  now,"  he  resumed,  "  my  friend  Miss  Weth 
eridge  here  has  informed  me  of  the  conditions  on  which  you 
have  visited  our  chapel  We  propose  to  c?rrv  them  out  in 


232  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

good  faith,  and  not  put  any  constraint  upon  you  beyond 
a  cordial  invitation  to  cast  your  lot  with  us.  It's  a  great 
thing  to  have  a  church  home.  You  need  not  feel  that  you 
must  decide  at  once,  but  come  again  and  again,  and  perhaps 
by  and  by  you  will  have  a  home  feeling  here. ' ' 

"I'm  coming  whether  the  rest  do  or  not,"  Belle  remarked 
emphatically,  and  Mr.  Wentworth  gave  her  a  humorous  look 
which  completed  the  conquest  of  her  heart. 

' '  Miss  Wetheridge  knows  that  my  decision  was  already 
made,"  said  Mildred  quietly,  with  an  intelligent  glance 
toward  her  friend  ;  ' '  and  if  there  is  any  very,  very  simple 
work  that  I  can  do,  I  shall  feel  it  a  privilege  to  do  the  best 
I  can. ' ' 

She  never  forgot  his  responsive  look  of  honest  friendliness 
as  he  answered,  "  The  simplest  work  you  do  in  that  spirit 
will  be  blessed.  Miss  Wetheridge,  I  hope  you  will  soon  find 
some  more  people  like  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  her  daughters. 
Good-by  now  for  a  short  time,"  and  a  moment  later  Mildred 
saw  him  talking  just  as  kindly,  but  differently,  to  a  very 
shabby-looking  man. 

Mr.  Wentworth  was  also  a  "  fisher  of  men,"  but  he  fished 
intelligently,  and  caught  them. 

Belle  could  hardly  wait  until  she  was  in  the  street  before 
exclaiming,  "  He  isn't  a  bit  like  our  old  minister.  Why — 
why — he's  a  man." 


SKILLED  LABOR.  233 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

SKILLED    LABOR. 

MISS  WETHERIDGE'S  visit  bade  fair  to  occasion  im 
portant  changes  for  the  bettter  in  Mildred's  pros 
pects.  From  Mrs.  Wheaton  the  young  lady  had  learned  of 
her  protegee  s  long  hours  of  ill-repaid  toil.  She  was  eager  to 
gain  Mildred's  confidence  to  an  extent  that  would  warrant 
some  good  advice,  and  after  another  call  early  in  the  week 
she  induced  the  girl  to  come  and  see  her  and  to  open  her 
heart  fully  in  the  privacy  thus  secured.  Of  course  there  was 
one  secret  jealously  guarded,  and  the  reader  can  well  under 
stand  that  Vinton  Arnold's  name  was  not  mentioned,  and 
the  disagreeable  episode  of  Roger  Atwood  was  not  deemed 
worth  speaking  of.  He  was  now  but  a  fast-fading  memory, 
for  even  Belle  rarely  recalled  him. 

That  the  Jocelyns  did  not  belong  to  the  ordinary  ranks  of 
the  poor,  and  that  Mildred  was  not  a  commonplace  girl,  was 
apparent  to  Miss  Wetheridge  from  the  first ;  and  it  was  her 
design  to  persuade  her  friend  to  abandon  the  overcrowded 
and  ill-paid  divisions  of  labor  for  something  more  in  accord 
ance  with  her  cultivation  and  ability.  Mildred  soon  proved 
that  her  education  was  too  general  and  superficial  to  admit  of 
teaching  except  in  the  primary  departments,  and  as  the 
schools  were  now  in  session  it  might  be  many  months  before 
any  opening  would  occur.  With  a  mingled  sigh  and  laugh 
she  said,  "  The  one  thing  I  know  how  to  do  I  shall  probably 
never  do — I  could  make  a  home,  and  I  could  be  perfectly 
happy  in  taking  care  of  it " 


234  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Pardon  me  !"  cried  Miss  Wetheridge  roguishly,  "  that 
seems  to  me  your  inevitable  fate,  sooner  or  later.  We  are 
only  counselling  together  how  best  to  fill  up  the  interval. 
My  Iriend  almost  made  me  jealous  by  the  way  he  talked 
about  you  the  other  evening. 

A  faint  color  stole  into  Mildred's  face.  "  All  that's  past, 
I  fear,"  she  said  with  low,  sad  emphasis,  "and  I  would 
never  marry  merely  for  the  sake  of  a  home.  My  future  is 
that  of  a  working-woman  unless  papa  can  regain  his  former 
means.  Even  then  I  should  not  like  to  live  an  idle  life.  So 
the  question  is,  What  kind  of  work  shall  I  do  ?  How  can  I 
do  the  most  for  the  family,  for  I  am  troubled  about  papa' s 
health,  and  mamma  is  not  strong." 

Her  warm-hearted  friend's  eyes  grew  moist  as  she  looked 
intently  and  understandingly  into  the  clouded  and  beautiful 
face.  In  one  of  her  pretty  impulses  that  often  broke  through 
her  polite  restraint  she  exclaimed,  "  Millie,  you  are  a  true 
woman.  Please  pardon  my  familiarity,  but  I  can't  tell  you 
how  much  you  interest  me,  how  I  respect  you,  and — and — 
how  much  I  like  you." 

"  Nor  can  I  tell  you,"  responded  Mildred  earnestly,  "  how 
much  hope  and  comfort  you  have  already  brought  me. ' ' 

"  Come,"  said  Miss  Wetheridge  cheerily,  "  we  will  go 
down  to  the  rooms  of  the  Young  Women's  Christian  Associ 
ation  at  once.  We  may  get  light  there.  The  thing  for  you 
to  do  is  to  master  thoroughly  one  or  more  of  the  higher 
forms  of  labor  that  are  as  yet  uncrowded.  That  is  what  I 
would  do." 

While  she  was  preparing  for  the  street  she  observed  Mil 
dred's  eyes  resting  wistfully  on  an  upright  piano  that  formed 
part  of  the  beautiful  furniture  of  her  private  sanctum.  '  You 
are  recognizing  an  old  friend  and  would  like  to  renew  your 
acquaintance, ' '  she  said  smilingly.  ' '  Won' t  you  play  while 
I  am  changing  my  dress  ?" 


SKILLED  LABOR.  235 

'•  Perhaps  I  can  best  thank  you  in  that  way,"  answered 
Mildred,  availing  herself  of  the  permission  with  a  pleasure 
she  could  not  disguise.  ' '  I  admit  that  the  loss  of  my  piano 
has  been  one  of  my  greatest  deprivations. ' ' 

Miss  Wetheridge's  sleeping -apartment  opened  into  her 
sitting-room,  and,  with  the  door  open,  it  was  the  same  as  if 
they  were  still  together.  The  promise  of  thanks  was  well 
kept  as  the  exquisite  notes  of  Mendelssohn's  "  Hope" 
and  "  Consolation"  filled  the  rooms  with  music  that  is 
as  simple  and  enduring  as  the  genuine  feeling  of  a  good 
heart. 

"  I  now  understand  how  truly  you  lost  a  friend  and  com 
panion  in  your  piano,"  said  Miss  Wetheridge,  "  and  I  want 
you  to  come  over  here  and  play  whenever  you  feel  like  it, 
whether  I  am  at  home  or  not" 

Mildred  smiled,  but  made  no  reply.  She  could  accept 
kindness  and  help  from  one  who  gave  them  as  did  Miss 
Wetheridge,  but  she  was  too  proud  and  sensitive  to  enter 
upon  an  intimacy  that  must  of  necessity  be  so  one-sided  in 
its  favors  and  advantages,  and  she  instinctively  felt  that  such 
wide  differences  in  condition  would  lead  to  mutual  embarrass 
ments  that  her  enthusiastic  friend  could  not  foresee.  It  was 
becoming  her  fixed  resolve  to  accept  her  lot,  with  all  that  it  in 
volved,  and  no  amount  of  encouragement  could  induce  her  \o 
renew  associations  that  could  be  enjoyed  now  only  through  a 
certain  phase  of  charity,  however  the  fact  might  be  disguised. 
But  she  would  rather  reveal  her  purpose  by  the  retiring  and 
even  tenor  of  her  way  than  by  any  explanations  of  her  feel 
ings.  Thus  it  came  about  in  the  future  that  Miss  Wether 
idge  made  three  calls,  at  least,  to  one  that  she  received,  and 
that  in  spite  of  all  she  could  do  Mildred  shrank  from  often 
meeting  other  members  of  her  family.  But  this  sturdy  self- 
respect  on  the  part  of  the  young  girl — this  resolute  purpose 
not  to  enter  a  social  circle  where  she  would  at  least  fear  pat- 


236  WITHOUT  A  HOME, 

ronage  and  surprise  at  her  presence — increased  her  friend's 
respect  in  the  secrecy  of  her  heart. 

Mildred  at  once  became  a  member  of  the  Young  Women' s 
Association,  and  its  library  and  reading-room  promised  to 
become  a  continued  means  of  pleasure  and  help.  From 
among  the  several  phases  of  skilled  labor  taught  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Association,  she  decided  to  choose  the  highest 
— that  of  stenography — if  her  father  thought  he  could  support 
the  family  without  much  help  for  a  few  months.  She  was 
already  very  rapid  and  correct  in  her  penmanship,  and  if  she 
could  become  expert  in  taking  short-hand  notes  she  was 
assured  that  she  could  find  abundant  and  highly  remunerative 
scope  for  her  skill,  and  under  circumstances,  too,  that  would 
not  involve  unpleasant  publicity.  She  thought  very  favorably, 
also,  of  the  suggestion  that  she  should  join  the  bookkeeping 
class.  With  her  fine  mental  capacity  and  previous  educa 
tion  Miss  Wetheridge  believed  that  Mildred  could  so  far 
master  these  two  arts  as  to  be  sure  of  an  independence,  and 
her  kind  friend  proposed  to  use  no  little  influence  in  finding 
opportunities  for  their  exercise. 

Mildred,  naturally,  lost  no  time  in  explaining  her  projects 
to  her  father,  and  it  so  happened  that  she  spoke  at  a  moment 
of  peculiar  exhilaration  on  his  part.  "If  it  would  give  you 
pleasure,"  he  said,  "  to  learn  these  two  accomplishments, 
you  may  do  so,  of  course,  but  I  foresee  no  probability  of 
your  ever  putting  them  to  use.  I  now  have  prospects, ' '  etc. , 
etc.  Soon  after,  he  was  in  a  deep  sleep.  She  looked  at 
him  with  troubled  eyes,  and  promptly  entered  on  her  studies 
the  following  day,  working  with  the  assiduity  of  one  who 
feels  that  the  knowledge  may  be  needed  before  it  can  be 
acquired. 

Belle  was  in  quite  a  flutter  of  excitement  on  the  evening 
named  for  Mr.  Wentworth's  visit,  and  the  genial  clergyman 
would  have  laughed  again  could  he  have  heard  one  of  her 


SKILLED  LABOR.  237 

reasons  for  welcoming  him.  "  He  is  so  delkiously  homely, ' ' 
she  said,  "  I  like  to  look  at  him."  He  came  at  the  hour 
appointed,  and  his  visit  was  truly  a  "  spiritual  "  one,  if  en 
livened  spirits,  more  hopeful  hearts,  and  a  richer  belief  in 
their  Divine  Father's  good-will  toward  them  all  were  the 
legitimate  result  oi  a  spiritual  visit.  Mr.  Jocelyn,  in  expect 
ancy  of  the  guest,  had  carefully  prepared  himself  in  guilty 
secrecy,  and  appeared  unusually  well,  but  he  was  the  only 
one  who  sighed  deeply  after  the  good  man's  departure. 
Rising  from  the  depths  of  his  soul  through  his  false  exhila 
ration  was  a  low,  threatening  voice,  saying,  "  That  man  is 
true  ;  you  are  a  sham,  and  your  hollowness  will  become 
known. ' ' 

Indeed,  Mr.  Wentworth  went  away  with  a  vague  impres 
sion  that  there  was  something  unreal  or  unsound  about  Mr. 
Jocelyn,  and  he  began  to  share  Mrs.  Wheaton'  s  painful  fore 
bodings  for  the  family.  Belle  enjoyed  the  visit  greatly,  for 
the  minister  was  an  apostle  of  a  very  sunny  gospel,  and  she 
was  then  ready  for  no  other.  Moreover,  the  healthful,  un- 
warped  man  delighted  in  the  girl's  frolicsome  youth,  and  no 
more  tried  to  repress  her  vivacity  than  he  would  the  bubble 
and  sparkle  of  a  spring.  Indeed  he  was  sensible  enough  to 
know  that,  as  the  spring  keeps  pure  by  flowing  and  sparkling 
into  the  light,  so  her  nature  would  stand  a  far  better  chance 
of  remaining  untainted  if  given  abundant  yet  innocent  scope. 
His  genial  words  had  weight  with  her,  but  her  quick  intuition 
of  his  sympathy,  his  sense  of  humor,  which  was  as  genuine  as 
her  own,  had  far  more  weight,  and  their  eyes  rarely  met  with 
out  responsive  smiles.  There  was  nothing  trivial,  however, 
in  their  interplay  of  mirthf  ulness — nothing  that  would  prevent 
the  child  from  coming  to  him  should  her  heart  become  bur 
dened  with  sin  or  sorrow.  She  was  assigned  to  Miss  Wether- 
idge's  class,  and  soon  became  warmly  attached  to  her  teacher. 
Mildred,  to  her  great  surprise,  was  asked  to  take  a  class  of 


238  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

rude-looking,  half-grown  boys.  In  answer  to  her  look  of 
dismay,  Mr.  Wentworth  only  said  smilingly,  "  Try  it ;  trust 
my  judgment ;  you  can  do  more  with  those  boys  than  I 
can." 

"Were  it  not  for  my  promise  to  Miss  Wetheridge,  I 
shouldn't  even  dare  think  of  such  a  thing,"  she  replied; 
"  but  I  now  feel  bound  to  attempt  it,  although  I  hope  you 
will  soon  give  me  some  very,  very  little  girls." 

"In  complying  you  show  a  high  sense  of  honor,  Miss 
Jocelyn.  I  will  relieve  you  after  a  time,  if  you  wish  rne  to, ' ' 
and  the  student  of  human  nature  walked  away  with  a  peculiar 
smile.  ' '  When  I  was  a  harum-scarum  boy, ' '  he  muttered, 
"  a  girl  with  such  a  face  could  almost  make  me  worship  her. 
I  don' t  believe  boys  have  changed. ' ' 

She  was  shrewd  enough  not  to  let  the  class  see  that  she 
was  afraid  ;  and  being  only  boys,  they  saw  merely  what  was 
apparent — that  they  had  the  prettiest  teacher  in  the  room. 
Her  beauty  and  refinement  impressed  them  vaguely,  yet 
powerfully  ;  the  incipient  man  within  them  yielded  its  invol 
untary  homage,  and  she  appealed  to  their  masculine  traits  as 
only  a  woman  of  tact  can,  making  them  feel  that  it  would  be 
not  only  wrong  but  ungallant  and  unmannerly  to  take  ad 
vantage  of  her.  They  all  speedily  succumbed  except  one, 
whose  rude  home  associations  and  incorrigible  disposition 
rendered  futile  her  appeals.  After  two  or  three  Sabbaths  the 
other  boys  became  so  incensed  that  he  should  disgrace  the 
class  that  after  school  they  lured  him  into  an  alley-way  and 
were  administering  a  well-deserved  castigation,  when  Mildred, 
who  was  passing,  rescued  him.  His  fear  induced  him  to 
yield  to  her  invitation  to  accompany  her  ho,me  ;  and  her 
kindness,  to  which  he  knew  he  was  not  entitled,  combined 
with  the  wholesome  effect  of  the  pummelling  received  from 
the  boys,  led  him  to  unite  in  making  the  class — once  known 
as  "  the  Incorrigibles" — the  best  behaved  in  the  school. 


SKILLED  LABOR.  239 

Everything  apparently  now  promised  well  for  the  Jocelyns. 
Their  mistaken  policy  of  seclusion  and  shrinking  from 
contact  with  the  world  during  their  impoverishment  had  given 
way  to  kindly  Christian  influences,  and  they  were  forming  the 
best  associations  their  lot  permitted.  All  might  have  gone 
to  their  ultimate  advantage  had  it  not  been  for  the  hidden 
element  of  weakness  so  well  known  to  the  reader,  but  as  yet 
unsuspected  by  the  family. 

If  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  been  able  to  put  forth  the  efforts  of  a 
sound  and  rational  man,  he  could,  with  the  aid  of  his  daugh 
ters,  even  in  those  times  of  depression,  have  passed  safely 
through  the  trials  of  sudden  poverty,  and  eventually — having 
learned  wisdom  from  the  past  experience — he  could  have  re 
gained  a  better  and  more  stable  financial  position  than  the 
one  lost.  Thus  far  he  had  been  able  to  maintain  considerable 
self-control,  and  by  daily  experience  knew  just  about  how 
much  morphia  he  could  take  without  betraying  himself. 
His  family  had  become  accustomed  to  its  effects,  and  ascribed 
them  to  the  peculiar  state  of  his  health.  Loving  eyes  are 
often  the  most  blind,  and  that  which  is  seen  daily  ceases  to 
seem  strange.  Beyond  their  natural  solicitude  over  his  failing 
appetite,  his  unwholesome  complexion,  and  his  loss  of  flesh, 
they  had  no  misgivings.  His  decline  was  so  very  gradual 
that  there  was  nothing  to  startle  them.  Every  day  they  hoped 
to  see  a  change  for  the  better,  and  sought  to  bring  it  about 
by  preparing  such  dainty  dishes  as  were  within  their  means 
to  catch  his  capricious  appetite,  and  by  keeping  all  their  little 
perplexities  and  worriments  to  themselves,  so  that  he  might 
have  unbroken  rest  when  free  from  business.  He  recognized 
theif  unselfish  and  considerate  devotion,  and  it  added  to  the 
horrible  depression  into  which  he  sank  more  and  more 
deeply  the  moment  he  passed  from  under  the  influence  of  the 
fatal  drug.  He  was  living  over  an  abyss,  and  that  which 
kept  him  from  its  depths  was  deepening  and  widening  it 


240  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

daily.  He  still  had  the  vague  hope  that  at  some  time  and  in 
some  way  he  could  escape  ;  but  days  and  weeks  were  pass 
ing,  bringing  no  change  for  the  better,  no  honest,  patient 
effort  to  regain  the  solid  ground  of  safety.  He  was  drifting 
down,  and  when  at  times  he  became  conscious  of  the  truth, 
a  larger  dose  of  morphia  was  his  one  method  of  benumbing 
the  terror  that  seemed  groping  for  his  heart  with  a  death-cold 
hand. 

Mildred  soon  began  to  make  rapid  progress  in  her  studies, 
and  grew  hopeful  over  the  fact.  If  her  father  would  give  her 
the  chance  she  could  make  a  place  for  herself  among  skilled 
workers  within  a  year,  and  be  able,  if  there  were  need,  to  pro 
vide  for  the  entire  family.  Great  and  prolonged  destitution 
rarely  occurs,  even  in  a  crowded  city,  unless  there  is  much 
sickness  or  some  destructive  vice.  Wise  economy,  patient 
and  well-directed  effort,  as  a  rule,  secure  comfort  and  inde 
pendence,  if  not  affluence  ;  but  continued  illness,  disaster, 
and  especially  sin,  often  bring  with  them  a  train  of  evils  diffi 
cult  to  describe. 

Mildred  found  time  between*  her  lessons  to  aid  her  mother 
and  also  to  do  a  little  fancy  work,  for  which,  through  the  aid 
of  Miss  Wetheridge,  she  found  private  customers  who  were 
willing  to  pay  its  worth. 

Thus  the  month  of  October  was  passing  rapidly  and  rather 
hopefully  away.  They  received  letters  from  Clara  Bute  oc 
casionally,  wherein  she  expressed  herself  well  content  with 
the  country  and  the  situation  Mrs.  Atwood  had  obtained  for 
her.  "I'm  getting  as  plump  and  rosy  as  Susan, ' '  she  wrote, 
"  and  I'm  not  coming  back  to  town.  Going  up  and  down 
those  tenement  stairs  tired  me  more  than  all  the  work  I  do 
here.  Still,  I  work  hard,  lean  tell  you  ;  but  it's  all  sorts  of 
work,  with  plenty  of  good  air  and  good  food  to  do  it  on. 
I'm  treted  better  than  I  ever  was  before — just  like  one  of  the 


SKILLED  LABOR.  241 

family,  and  there's  a  young  farmer  who  takes  me  out  to  ride 
sometimes,  and  he  acts  and  talks  like  a  man." 

Whether  this  attentive  friend  were  Roger  or  a  new  acquaint 
ance  she  did  not  say.  For  some  reason  a  reticence  in  regard 
to  the  former  characterized  her  letters. 


242  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

THE   OLD   ASTRONOMER. 

ONE  Saturday  night  Mildred  was  awakened  from  time 
to  time  by  the  wailing  of  a  child.  The  sounds  came 
from  the  rooms  of  the  Ulphs,  which  were  directly  overhead, 
and  by  morning  she  was  convinced  that  there  was  a  case  of 
serious  illness  in  the  German  family.  Led  by  her  sympa 
thies,  and  also  by  the  hope  of  thawing  the  reserve  of  the 
eccentric  old  astronomer,  she  resolved  to  go  and  ask  if  she 
could  be  of  any  help. 

In  response  to  her  light  knock  a  shock-headed,  unkempt 
boy  opened  the  door  and  revealed  a  state  of  chaos  that  might 
well  have  driven  mad  any  student  of  the  heavenly  bodies  with 
their  orderly  ways.  There  seemed  to  be  one  place  for  every 
thing — the  middle  of  the  floor — and  about  everything  was  in 
this  one  place.  In  the  midst  of  a  desolation  anything  but 
picturesque,  Mrs.  Ulph  sat  before  the  fire  with  a  little  moan 
ing  baby  upon  her  Jfap. 

"  I  heard  your  child  crying  in  the  night,"  said  Mildred 
gently,  "  and  as  we  are  neighbors  I  thought  I  would  come 
up  and  see  if  I  could  help  you." 

The  woman  stared  a  moment  and  then  asked,  "  You  Miss 
Schoslin  ?' ' 

"  Yes,  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  do  something,  for  I 
fear  you've  been  up  all  night  and  must  be  very  tired." 

"I'm  shust  dead  ;  not  von  vink  of  schleep  haf  I  had  all 
der  night.  He  shust  cry  und  cry,  and  vat  I  do  I  don't 


THE  OLD  ASTRONOMER.  243 

know.  I  fear  he  die.  Der  fader  gone  for  der  doctor,  but 
he  die  'fore  dey  gets  here.  Schee,  he  getten  gold  now." 

Truly  enough,  the  child's  extremities  were  growing  chill 
indeed,  and  the  peculiar  pinched  look  and  ashen  color 
which  is  so  often  the  precursor  of  death  was  apparent. 

' '  Let  me  call  my  mother, ' '  cried  Mildred,  in  much  alarm. 
"  She  knows  about  children." 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  soon  became  convinced  from  the  mother's 
account  that  the  child's  disease  was  cholera  infantum,  and 
some  previous  experience  with  her  own  children  taught  her 
just  what  to  do.  Before  very  long  the  little  one  gave  evi 
dence  of  a  change  for  the  better.  After  the  crisis  of  danger 
was  past,  and  while  her  mother  and  Mrs.  Ulph  were  working 
over  the  infant,  Mildred  began  quietly  to  put  the  room  into 
something  like  order,  and  to  dress  the  other  children  that 
were  in  various  transition  states  between  rags  and  nakedness. 
As  the  German  woman  emerged  from  a  semi-paralyzed  con 
dition  of  alarm  over  her  child  she  began  to  talk  and  complain 
as  usual. 

' '  It  vas  von  shudgment  on  der  fader, ' '  she  said  querulous 
ly.  ' '  He  care  more  for  der  schpots  on  der  sun  dan  for  his 
schilder.  For  der  last  veek  it's  all  peen  schpots  on  der  sun, 
netting  put  schpots.  Vat  goot  dey  do  us?  Dare's  peen 
light  to  vork  py,  put  efry  minit  he  schtop  vork  to  run  to  der 
roof  und  see  dem  schpots  vot  he  says  on  der  sun.  He  says 
dere  ish — vat  you  call  him — pig  virl-a-rounds  up  dere  dat 
vould  plow  all  der  beoples  off  der  earth  in  von  vink,  und  ven 
I  tells  him  dat  he  ish  von  pig  virl-a-round  himself,  runnin' 
und  runnin',  und  lettin'  der  vork  schstand,  den  von  of  der 
schpots  come  outen  on  him  und  I  dink  he  plow  my  hed 
offen. ' ' 

By  and  by  she  began  again  :  "  If  it  ish  not  schpots  it  ish 
someding  else.  Von  year  he  feel  vorse  dan  if  I  die  pegose 
vat  you  call  a  gomet  did  not  gome  ven  he  said  it  vould 


244  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

gome.  He  near  look  his  eyes  outen  for  it,  und  he  go  efry 
morning  'fore  preakfast  for  der  bapers  to  get  vord  of  dat 
gomet.  I  dought  ve  all  schtarve  'fore  he  got  done  mit  dot 
gomet,  and  ven  he  give  oup  all  hope  of  him,  he  feel  vorse 
dan  he  vould  if  dis  schild  die.  He  vas  so  pad  to  me  as  if  I 
eat  der  gomet  oup,  und  ve  had  not  mooch  else  to  eat  till  he 
sure  der  gomet  gone  to  der  duyvil.  It  might  haf  peen  vorse 
if  der  gomet  gome  ;  vat  he  done  den  der  goot  Lord  only 
know — he  go  off  mit  it  if  he  gould.  He  tink  notting  of 
sittin'  oup  mit  a  gomet,  put  he  get  der  schpots  on  him  ven 
I  ask  to  nurse  der  schild  in  der  night." 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  paid  little  attention  to  her 
plaints  ;  and  the  former,  having  done  what  she  could,  returned 
to  her  own  family  cares.  Mildred  took  the  little  sick  boy  in 
her  arms,  saying  that  she  would  hold  him  while  Mrs.  Ulph 
prepared  breakfast. 

It  was  at  this  stage  of  affairs  that  the  door  opened,  and  the 
pinched  and  grizzled  visage  of  Mr.  Ulph  appeared,  followed 
by  the  burly  form  of  a  German  physician  whom  he  had  in 
sisted  on  finding.  The  former  stopped  short  and  stared  at 
Mildred,  in  grim  hesitation  whether  he  should  resent  an  in 
trusion  or  acknowledge  a  kindness.  His  wile  explained 
rapidly  in  German,  with  a  deferential  manner,  but  in  a  sub- 
acidulous  tone. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  intrude,  but  only  to  help  as  a  neighbor 
should,"  Mildred  began,  during  a  lull  between  Mrs.  Ulph's 
shrill  notes.  "  I  fear  your  little  boy  was  very  ill  when  I  first 
came — indeed  my  mother  thought  he  was  dying.  She  knows, 
I  think,  for  my  little  brother  nearly  died  of  an  attack  like 
this. ' ' 

Beyond  her  explanation  of  Mildred's  presence  he  seemingly 
had  given  no  heed  1o  his  wife's  words,  but  now  he  started 
and  exclaimed,  "  Mein  Gott !  Vat  you  say?  Die?"  and 
he  turned  with  intense  anxiety  to  the  doctor,  who  without 


THE  OLD  ASTRONOMER.  245 

ceremony  began  to  investigate  the  case,  asking  the  mother 
questions  and  receiving  answers  that  Mildred  did  not  under 
stand.  The  woman  evidently  claimed  all  the  credit  she 
deserved  for  her  care  of  the  patient  in  the  night,  and  sug 
gested  that  Mr.  Ulph  had  been  very  oblivious  until  the  child 
seemed  sinking,  for  the  old  man  grew  excessively  impatient 
during  the  interrogations.  As  if  unconscious  of  Mildred's 
ignorance  of  their  language,  he  said  earnestly  to  her,  "  I 
did  not  know — I  vould  gif  my  life  for  der  schild — der  boor 
leedle  poy — I  no  dink  dat  he  vas  so  sick,"  and  his  eager 
words  and  manner  convinced  Mildred  that  his  wife  misrepre 
sented  him,  and  that  his  interest  in  the  mystery  of  the  com 
et's  fate  would  be  slight  compared  with  that  which  centred 
in  his  son. 

The  phlegmatic  physician  continued  his  investigations  with 
true  German  thoroughness  and  deliberation.  It  was  well 
that  the  child's  worst  symptoms  had  been  relieved  before  he 
came,  for  he  seemed  bent  on  having  the  whole  history  of  the 
case  down  to  the  latest  moment  before  he  extended  his  heavy 
hand  to  the  aid  of  nature,  and  he  questioned  Mildred  as 
minutely  as  he  had  Mrs.  Ulph,  while  she,  unlike  the  former, 
did  not  take  any  credit  to  herself. 

If  the  doctor  was  a  little  slow,  he  was  sure,  for  he  said 
something  emphatically  to  the  father,  who  in  turn  seized  Mil 
dred' s  hand,  exclaiming,  with  explosive  energy,  "  Gott  pless 
you  !  Gott  pless  you  !" 

' '  But  it  was  mamma  who  did  everything, ' '  protested  the 
young  girl. 

"Yah,  I  know,  I  know;  put  who  prought  mamma? 
Who  listen  ven  der  boor  leetle  poy  gry  in  der  night  ?  Who 
gome  in  der  morning  ?  Mine  paby  vould  haf  been  ded  if 
you  haf  not  gome.  Gott  pless  you  ;  Gott  pless  your  moder. 
I  vant  to  dank  her  mooch. ' ' 

The  grateful  father  had  called  down  God's  blessings  so 


246  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

lavishly  that  Mildred  very  naturally  said,  "  You  have  more 
reason  to  thank  God  than  any  one  else,  Mr.  Ulph,  for  no 
doubt  it  was  His  blessing  on  our  efforts  that  has  made  your 
child  better.  The  disease  is  such  a  dangerous  one  that  the 
best  human  skill  is  often  in  vain. ' ' 

The  physician  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked  signifi 
cantly  at  Mr.  Ulph,  whose  visage  wrinkled  into  an  odd 
grimace. 

;<  You  may  dink  vat  you  please  and  say  vat  you  please, 
Miss  Schoslin.  Men  dink  different  off  dese  dinks  vrom 
vomans.  I  haf  a  vay  off  saying  Gott  pless  beoples  ven  I  feels 
goot  do  wards 'em,  put  I  means  'em  no  harm.  Vat  you 
American  beoples  somedimes  say — dank  my  schtars  ?  Dat 
will  do  shust  so  veil  for  me.  It  vas  dis  vay  :  der  schild  vas 
seek  ;  you  und  your  moder  gome,  und  you  make  gauses  und 
dere  are  der  evvects.  I  perlieve  in  gause  und  evvect,  und  you 
vas  a  very  goot  gause. 

"  We  certainly  should  be  very  poor  neighbors  had  we  not 
come  and  done  all  we  could,  and  with  your  permission 
mother  and  I  will  help  your  wife  to-day  so  she  can  get  some 
rest." 

"  I  dank  you  vrom  mine  heart.  You  make  me  dink  off 
der  heafenly  podies — you  make  order  put  no  noise.  I  vill 
do  for  you  vatefer  you  vish  und  pe  honest. 

Mildred  now  believed  that  she  had  gained  the  key  to  the 
old  German's  character,  and  such  a  hold  upon  his  feelings 
that  he  would  eventually  permit  her  to  become  his  companion 
in  his  star-gazing  on  the  roof.  Denied  so  much  of  the  beauty 
she  craved  on  the  earth,  she  believed  that  she  could  find  in  an 
intelligent  study  of  the  skies  a  pleasure  that  would  prove  an 
antidote  for  the  depressing  circumstances  of  her  lot.  She 
had  often  longed  with  intense  curiosity  to  look  through  his 
telescope,  and  to  penetrate  some  of  the  bright  mysteries  that 
glittered  above  her  with  such  tantalizing  suggestion.  She 


THE  OLD  ASTRONOMER.  247 

was  adroit,  however,  and  determined  that  the  invitation 
should  come  unsolicited  from  him,  so  that  his  suspicions  and 
cynical  nature  could  give  no  sinister  interpretation  to  her 
kindness. 

The  physician  evidently  shared  in  Mr.  Ulph's  estimate  of 
the  mother  of  the  child,  for  he  explained  to  Mildred  how  the 
remedies  he  left  should  be  used.  She  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
acted  as  nurse  most  of  the  day,  and  the  patient  improved 
steadily.  After  her  return  from  the  chapel  in  the  afternoon, 
Mildred  found  the  old  German  smoking  his  pipe  in  quite  a 
placid  mood,  and  she  skilfully  led  him  to  talk  on  his  favorite 
theme.  He  soon  became  so  interested  and  so  confidential 
that  he  unlocked  a  small,  closet-like  room  and  showed  her 
his  treasures — the  telescope  and  other  instruments,  Argelan- 
der's  maps,  and  many  books  written  by  the  most  eminent 
authorities. 

' '  I  haf  gone  mitout  mine  dinner  many  und  many  der  day 
to  puy  dese.  Mine  pody  schtays  in  dis  hole  in  dis  old  house, 
put  mit  dese  vat  I  gather  since  ven  I  vas  young,  I  go  to 
heafen  every  night.  Hah,  hah,  hah  !  dot  Engleesh  voman 
on  der  virst  vloor  dink  she  know  a  petter  vay  off  going  to 
heafen  ;  und  she  dalk  her  reeleegious  schargon  to  me,  ven  she 
know  netting  at  all  put  vat  der  briests  dell  her.  If  dey  dell 
her  de  moon  von  pig  green  scheese  she  swar  it  ish  so  ;  put 
dese  dings  dell  der  druf,  und  der  great  laws  vork  on  for  efer 
no  matter  vat  voolish  beoples  perlieve.  It  vas  all  law  und 
vorce,  und  it  vould  pe  von  pig  muddle  in  der  heafens  if  it  vas 
all  vat  der  briests  say." 

Mildred  was  in  a  dilemma,  for  she  felt  that  she  could  not 
be  silent  under  his  outspoken  scepticism,  and  yet  if  she  re 
vealed  her  mind  she  doubted  whether  there  would  be  any 
result  except  the  alienation  of  the  man  whose  friendship  she 
was  bent  on  securing.  After  a  moment's  hesitation  she  saw 
but  one  honorable  course,  and  so  said  firmly,  "  Mr.  Ulph, 


248  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

I  believe  you  are  an  honest  man,  but  I  want  you  to  think  of 
me  as  an  honest  girl,  also.  If  I  wanted  to  know  about 
astronomy — and  I  do  want  to  know  very  much — I  would 
come  to  you.  If  I  wanted  to  know  about  some  other  things 
I  would  go  to  my  minister.  I  believe  in  law  as  truly  as  you 
do,  but  I  believe  God  made  the  laws — that  they  are  simply 
His  will.  If  I  respect  your  unbelief,  you  must  respect  my 
faith — that  is  fair  ;  and  I  think  you  are  one  who  would  deal 
fairly  and  do  justice  to  all.  Mrs.  Wheaton  knows  little  of 
astronomy  and  many  other  things,  no  doubt,  but  she  has 
known  how  to  be  a  very  kind,  good  neighbor  to  us,  and  her 
religion  is  mine." 

The  old  German  stared  at  her  a  moment,  then  scratched 
his  head  as  he  replied,  half  apologetically  and  half  pityingly, 
' '  You  vas  netting  put  a  leedle  schild,  put  you  haf  a  goot 
heart.  You  vas  honest,  und  you  schtands  oop  vor  your 
vriends,  und  I  likes  dot.  You  may  perlieve  all  der  vables 
you  vish  ;  und  I  vill  dells  you  more  vables  apout  der  schtars 
dat  ish  shust  so  goot  und  shust  so  old. ' ' 

' '  But  you  will  tell  me  the  truth  about  them,  too,  won' t 
you  ?"  pleaded  Mildred,  with  a  smile  that  would  have  thawed 
a  colder  nature  than  Mr.  Ulph's.  "  I  want  to  learn  a  wee 
bit  of  what  you  know.  I  have  so  little  that  is  bright  and 
pretty  in  my  life  now  that  I  just  long  to  catch  some  glimpses 
of  what  you  see  in  the  skies.  Perhaps  I  could  help  you  by 
writing  down  your  observations.  I  would  ask  questions 
only  when  you  said  I  might." 

' '  Veil,  now,  dot' s  a  goot  idea.  Mine  eyes  vas  getten  old, 
und  you  vas  young,  put  it  von't  last ;  you  vas  a  young  ding, 
und  girls  vas  vlighty  and  vant — vat  you  call  him  ? — peaux 
und  vrolics  ven  der  nights  vas  goot  and  glear. " 

"  Try  me,"  said  Mildred,  with  a  little  emphatic  nod. 

"  Veil,  you  don't  seem  likes  von  silly  girl,  und  I  vill  dry 
you  ;  put  you  moost  pe  very  schteady  und  batient,  und  but 


THE  OLD  ASTRONOMER.  249 

down  shust  vhat  I  say.  Von  leedle  schlip,  und  I  vas  all 
vrong  in  mine  vigures.  Von  preadth  off  hair  down  here  ish 
oh — so  vide  oop  dere.  Und  now,  gome,  I  tells  you  apout 
der  schpots — der  sun  schpots, ' '  and  with  many  odd  gesticu 
lations  and  contortions  of  his  quaint  visage  he  described  the 
terrific  cyclones  that  were  sweeping  over  the  surface  of  the 
sun  at  that  time,  and  whose  corresponding  perturbations  in 
the  astronomer's  mind  had  so  exasperated  his  wife.  She  and 
the  sick  child  were  now  sleeping,  and  the  other  children, 
warned  by  the  threatening  finger  of  the  father,  played  quietly 
in  a  corner.  It  was  an  odd  place  to  conjure  up  images  of 
whirling  storms  of  fire  so  appallingly  vast  that  the  great  earth, 
if  dropped  into  one  of  them,  would  be  fused  instantly  like  a 
lump  of  ore  in  a  blast  furnace  ;  but  the  grotesque  little  man 
was  so  earnest,  so  uncouth,  yet  forcible,  in  his  suggestions 
as  he  whirled  his  arms  around  to  indicate  the  vast,  resistless 
sweep  of  the  unimaginable  forces  working  their  wild  will 
millions  of  miles  away,  that  their  truth  and  reality  grew  pain 
fully  vivid  to  the  young  girl,  and  she  trembled  and  shuddered. 
The  roar  of  the  wildest  storm,  he  told  her,  and  the  bellowing 
of  mountainous  waves  combined,  would  be  but  a  murmur 
compared  with  the  far-reaching  thunder  of  a  sun  hurricane  as 
it  swept  along  hundreds  of  times  faster  than  clouds  are  ever 
driven  by  an  earthly  tornado.  There  was  nothing  in  her 
nature  which  led  her  to  share  in  his  almost  fierce  delight  in 
the  far-away  disturbances,  and  he  suddenly  stopped  and  said 
kindly,  "  Vy  I  vrighten  you  mit  sooch  pig  gommotions  ? 
You  shust  von  leedle  schild  off  a  voman  ;  und  I  likes  you 
pegause  you  haf  prain  so  you  see  und  know  vat  I  say.  You 
see  him  too  mooch,  und  so  you  dremble.  Dot's  goot.  If 
you  vas  silly  you  vould  giggle.  Der  schpots  ish  a  goot  way 
offen,  und  vill  nefer  virl  you  away  ;  und  next  dime  I  dells 
you  someding  schmooth  und  britty. ' ' 

Mildred  was  glad  to  hasten  through  the  gathering  dusk  to 


250  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

her  own  natural  and  homelike  abode,  for  the  old  »nan's 
strong  descriptions  and  vivid  manner  had  oppressed  her  with 
a  vague  terror,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  she  could  escape 
from  the  spell  of  his  words.  Indeed  they  followed  her  into 
her  dreams,  and  in  one  of  these  dreadful  visions  she  im 
agined  herself  shot  by  the  old  astronomer  through  his  tele 
scope  straight  into  the  centre  of  a  ' '  sun  schpot. ' '  Whom 
should  she  find  there  in  her  uncurbed  imagination  but  Roger 
Atwood.  He  seemed  to  be  standing  still,  and  he  coolly  re 
marked  that  "  a  man  had  no  business  to  be  whirled  about  by 
any  force  in  the  universe."  She,  however,  was  carried  mil 
lions  of  miles  away — a  fact  she  did  not  so  much  regret,  even 
in  her  dream,  since  he  was  left  behind. 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  25 1 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

ROGER    REAPPEARS. 

ROGER  ATWOOD  had  entered  Mildred's  mind  as  a 
part  of  a  grotesque  dream,  but  he  had  no  place  in  her 
waking  thoughts.  With  Vinton  Arnold,  however,  it  was 
very  different,  and  scarcely  an  hour  passed  that  she  was  not 
wondering  where  he  was,  and  again  questioning  his  pro 
longed  silence.  Often  her  heart  beat  quick  as  she  imagined 
she  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  in  the  street ;  and  it  must  be 
admitted  that  she  looked  for  him  constantly,  although  she 
took  pains  never  to  pass  his  residence.  Could  he  be  ill,  or 
was  he  patiently  waiting  like  herself,  secure  in  her  good 
faith  ?  She  longed  to  see  him,  even  though  unseen  herself, 
and  one  Sunday  early  in  November  she  yielded  to  her  strong 
desire  to  look  upon  one  in  reality  who  had  become  an  abid 
ing  presence  in  her  mind.  She  believed  that  from  a  certain 
part  of  the  gallery  in  the  church  they  both  had  attended  in 
former  days  she  could  look  down  upon  the  Arnold  pew.  If 
he  were  not  ill  she  felt  quite  sure  he  would  be  in  his  old 
place. 

It  was  almost  with  a  sense  of  guilty  intrusion  that  she 
crossed  the  threshold  of  her  old  church-home  and  stole  to  the 
thinly  occupied  gallery.  She  saw  familiar  faces,  but  shrank 
from  recognition  in  almost  trembling  apprehension,  scarcely 
feeling  secure  behind  her  thick  veil.  The  place,  once  so 
familiar,  now  seemed  as  strange  as  if  it  belonged  to  another 
world  ;  and  in  a  certain  sense  she  felt  that  it  was  part  of  a 


252  WITHOUT  A    HOME 

world  with  which  she  would  never  willingly  identify  herself 
again.  It  was  a  place  where  fashion  was  supreme,  and  not 
the  spirit  of  Christ,  not  even  the  spirit  of  a  broad,  honest, 
and  earnest  humanity.  The  florid  architecture,  the  high- 
priced  and  elegantly  upholstered  pews,  sparsely  occupied  by 
people  who  never  wished  to  be  crowded  under  any  possible 
circumstances,  and  preferred  not  to  touch  each  other  except 
in  a  rather  distant  and  conventional  way,  the  elaborately  ritu 
alistic  service,  and  the  cold,  superficial  religious  philosophy 
taught,  were  all  as  far  removed  from  the  divine  Son  of  Mary 
as  the  tinsel  scenery  of  a  stage  differs  from  a  natural  land 
scape.  Mildred's  deep  and  sorrowful  experience  made  its 
unreality  painfully  apparent  and  unsatisfactory.  She  re 
solved,  however,  to  try  to  give  the  sacred  words  that  would 
be  uttered  their  true  meaning  ;  and,  in  fact,  her  sincere  de 
votion  was  like  a  simple  flower  blooming  by  the  edge  of  a 
glacier.  She  felt  that  the  human  love  she  brought  there  and 
sought  to  gratify  was  pure  and  unselfish,  and  that  in  no  sense 
could  it  be  a  desecration  of  the  place  and  hour.  To  a  nature 
like  hers,  her  half-pitying  love  for  one  so  unfortunate  as 
Vinton  Arnold  was  almost  as  sacred  as  her  faith,  and  there 
fore  she  had  no  scruple  in  watching  for  his  appearance. 

Her  quest  was  unrewarded,  however,  for  no  one  entered 
the  pew  except  Mr.  Arnold  and  one  of  his  daughters.  The 
absence  of  Mrs.  Arnold  and  the  invalid  son  filled  her  with 
forebodings  and  the  memory  of  the  past ;  the  influence  of 
the  place  combined  with  her  fears  was  so  depressing  that  by 
the  time  the  service  ended  her  tears  were  falling  fast  behind 
her  veil.  With  natural  apprehension  that  her  emotion  might 
be  observed  she  looked  hastily  around,  and,  with  a  start,  en 
countered  the  eyes  of  Roger  Atwood.  Her  tears  seemed  to 
freeze  on  her  cheeks,  and  she  half  shuddered  in  strong  revul 
sion  of  feeling.  She  had  come  to  see  the  man  she  loved  ; 
after  months  of  patient  waiting  she  had  at  last  so  far  yielded 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  253 

to  the  cravings  of  her  heart  as  to  seek  but  a  glimpse  of  one 
who  fed  her  dearest  earthly  hope  ;  but  his  piace  is  vacant.  In 
his  stead  she  finds,  almost  at  her  side,  one  whom  she  hoped 
never  to  see  again  ;  and  she  knew  he  was  offering  through 
his  dark  eyes  a  regard  loathed  in  her  inmost  soul.  She 
was  oppressed  with  a  sudden,  superstitious  fear  that  she 
could  not  escape  him — that  he  was  endowed  with  such  a  re 
morseless  will  and  persistence  that  by  some  strange  necessity 
she  might  yield  in  spite  of  herself.  Belle's  words,  "He'll 
win  you  yet,"  seemed  like  a  direful  prophecy.  How  it 
could  ever  be  fulfilled  she  could  not  imagine  ;  but  his  mere 
presence  caused  a  flutter  of  fear,  and  the  consciousness  that 
she  was  followed  by  a  man  pre-eminently  gifted  with  that 
subtle  power  before  which  most  obstacles  crumble  made  her 
shiver  with  an  undefined  dread. 

She  believed  her  veil  had  been  no  protection — that  he  had 
seen  her  emotion  and  divined  its  cause,  indeed  that  nothing 
could  escape  his  eyes.  She  also  felt  sure  that  he  had  come 
to  the  city  to  carry  out  the  projects  which  he  had  vaguely 
outlined  to  her,  and  that  henceforth  she  could  never  be  sure, 
when  away  from  home,  that  his  searching  eyes  were  not  upon 
her.  However  well  intentioned  his  motive  might  be,  to  her 
it  would  be  an  odious  system  of  espionage.  There  was  but 
one  way  in  which  she  could  resent  it — by  a  cold  and  steadily 
maintained  indifference,  and  she  left  the  church  without  any 
sign  of  recognition,  feeling  that  her  lowered  veil  should  have 
taught  him  that  she  was  shunning  observation,  and  that  he 
had  no  right  to  watch  her.  She  went  home  not  only  greatly 
depressed,  but  incensed,  for  it  was  the  same  to  her  as  if  she 
had  been  intruded  upon  at  a  moment  of  sacred  privacy,  and 
coldly  scrutinized  while  she  was  giving  way  to  feelings  that 
she  would  hide  from  all  the  world.  That  he  could  not  know 
this,  and  that  it  was  no  great  breach  of  delicacy  for  a  young 
man  to  sit  in  the  same  church  with  a  lady  of  his  acquaint- 


254  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

ance,  and  even  to  regard  her  with  sympathy,  she  did  not 
consider.  She  was  in  no  mood  to  do  him  justice,  and  cir 
cumstances  had  imbued  her  mind  with  intense  prejudice. 
She  was  by  no  means  perfect,  nor  above  yielding  to  very  un 
just  prejudices  when  tempted  to  them  by  so  unwelcome  an 
interest  as  that  entertained  by  Roger  Atwood. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Millie?"  her  mother  asked,  follow 
ing  her  into  her  room  where  Belle  was  writing  a  letter  to 
Clara  Bute. 

Mildred  concluded  to  tell  all,  for  she  feared  Roger  might 
soon  appear  and  occasion  awkward  explanations,  so  she  said, 
'"  I  felt,  this  morning,  like  having  a  glimpse  of  our  old 
church  axid  life.  I  suppose  it  was  very  weak  and  foolish, 
and  I  was  well  punished,  for  toward  the  end  of  the  service  I 
was  thinking  over  old  times,  and  it  all  very  naturally  brought 
some  tears.  I  looked  around,  and  who,  of  all  others,  should 
be  watching  me  but  Roger  Atwood." 

Belle  sprang  up  and  clapped  her  hands  with  a  ringing 
laugh.  "  That' s  capital, "  she  cried.  "Didn't  I  tell  you, 
Millie,  you  couldn't  escape  him  ?  You  might  just  as  well 
give  in  first  as  last. ' ' 

"  Belle,"  said  Mildred,  in  strong  irritation,  "  that  kind  of 
talk  is  unpardonable.  I  won't  endure  it,  and  if  such  non 
sense  is  to  be  indulged  in  Roger  Atwood  cannot  come  here. 
I  shall  at  least  have  one  refuge,  and  will  not  be  persecuted  in 
my  own  home." 

"Belle,"  added  Mrs.  Jocelyn  gravely,  "since  Mildred 
feels  as  she  does,  you  must  respect  her  feelings.  It  would 
be  indelicate  and  unwomanly  to  do  otherwise." 

"  There,  Millie,  I  didn't  mean  anything,"  Belle  said, 
soothingly.  "  Besides  I  want  Roger  to  come  and  see  us,  for 
he  can  be  jolly  good  company  if  he  has  a  mind  to  ;  and  I 
believe  he  will  come  this  afternoon  or  evening.  For  my 
sake  you  must  all  treat  him  well,  for  I  want  some  one  to  talk 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  255 

to  once  in  a  while — some  one  that  mamma  will  say  is  a 
'good,  well-meaning  young  man.'  The  Atwoods  have  all 
been  so  kind  to  us  that  we  must  treat  him  well.  It  would 
be  mean  not  to  do  so.  No  doubt  he's  all  alone  in  the  city, 
too,  and  will  be  lonely. ' ' 

"  There  is  no  need  of  his  being  in  the  city  at  all,"  Mil 
dred  protested.  "  I've  no  patience  with  his  leaving  those 
who  need  him  so  much.  I  think  of  them,  and  am  sure 
they  feel  badly  about  it,  and  likely  enough  are  blaming  me, 
when,  if  I  had  my  way,  he'd  live  and  die  in  sight  of  his  own 
chimney  smoke." 

"  Millie,  you  are  unreasonable,"  retorted  Belle.  "  Why 
hasn'  t  Roger  Atwood  as  good  a  right  to  seek  his  fortune  out 
in  the  world  as  other  young  men  ?  Papa  didn'  t  stay  on  the 
old  plantation,  although  they  all  wanted  him  to.  What's 
more,  he  has  as  good  a  right  to  like  you  as  you  have  to  dis 
like  him.  I  may  as  well  say  it  as  think  it" 

It  was  difficult  to  refute  Belle's  hard  common-sense,  and 
her  sister  could  only  protest,  ' '  Well,  he  has  no  right  to  be 
stealthily  watching  me,  nor  to  persecute  me  with  unwelcome 
attentions. ' ' 

"  Leave  it  all  to  me,  Millie,"  said  her  mother  gently. 
"  I  will  manage  it  so  that  Belle  can  have  his  society  occa 
sionally,  and  we  show  our  good-will  toward  those  who  have 
been  kind  to  us.  At  the  same  time  I  think  I  can  shield  you 
from  anything  disagreeable.  He  is  pretty  quick  to  take  a 
hint  ;  and  you  can  soon  show  him  by  your  manner  that  you 
wish  him  well,  and  that  is  all.  He'  11  soon  get  over  his  half- 
boyish  preference,  or  at  least  learn  to  hide  it.  You  give  to 
his  feelings  more  importance  than  they  deserve." 

"I  suppose  I  do,"  Mildred  replied  musingly,  "  but  he 
makes  upon  me  the  queer  impression  that  he  will  never  leave 
me  alone — that  I  can  never  wholly  shake  him  off,  and  that 
he  will  appear  like  a  ghost  when  I  least  expect  it" 


256  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Belle  smiled  significantly.  "  There,  you  might  as  we'.i 
speak  plainly  as  look  in  that  way,"  Mildred  concluded  irri 
tably.  ' '  I  foresee  how  it  will  be,  but  must  submit  and  en 
dure  as  best  I  can,  I  suppose." 

Belle's  anticipation  proved  correct,  for  just  as  they  were 
nearly  ready  to  start  for  the  chapel  Roger  appeared,  and  was 
a  little  awkward  from  diffidence  and  doubt  as  to  his  recep 
tion.  Mrs.  Jocelyn's  kindness  and  Belle's  warm  greeting 
somewhat  reassured  him,  and  atoned  for  Mildred's  rather 
constrained  politeness.  While  answering  the  many  and  nat 
ural  questions  about  those  whom  he  had  left  in  Forestville, 
he  regained  his  self-possession  and  was  able  to  hold  his  own 
against  Belle's  sallies.  "  You  have  come  to  the  city  to 
stay?"  she  asked  point-blank. 

; '  Yes, ' '  he  said  briefly,  and  that  was  the  only  reference 
he  made  to  himself. 

She  soon  began  vivaciously,  "  You  must  go  with  us  to 
church  and  Sunday-school.  Here  you  are,  an  innocent  and 
unprotected  youth  in  this  great  wicked  city,  and  we  must  get 
you  under  good  influences  at  once." 

' '  That  is  my  wish, ' '  he  replied,  looking  her  laughingly  in 
the  face,  ' '  and  that  is  why  I  came  to  see  you.  If  you  have 
a  class  and  will  take  me  into  it,  I  will  accept  all  the  theology 
you  teach  me." 

"  Mr.  Wentworth's  hair  would  rise  at  the  idea  of  my  teach 
ing  theology  or  anything  ;  but  I'll  look  after  you,  and  if  you 
get  any  fast  ways  I'll  make  you  sorry.  No,  I'm  only  a 
scholar.  Millie  has  a  class  of  the  worst  boys  in  school,  and 
if — ' '  A  warning  glance  here  checked  her. 

"  Well,  then,  can't  I  join  your  class  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  we  are  all  girls,  and  you'll  make  us  so  bashful 
we  wouldn't  dare  say  anything." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Atwood  had  better  go  with  us  to  the  chapel, 
accepting  the  conditions  on  which  we  first  attended,"  sug- 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  257 

gested  Mrs.  Jocelyn.  "  If  he  is  pleased,  as  we  were,  he  can 
then  act  accordingly. 

"  Yes,  come,"  cried  Belle,  who  had  resumed  at  once  her 
old  companionable  and  mirthful  relations  with  Roger.  "  I'll 
go  with  you,  so  you  won' t  feel  strange  or  afraid.  I  want  you 
to  understand,"  she  continued,  as  they  passed  down  the 
quaint  old  hallway,  "  that  we  belong  to  the  aristocracy. 
Since  this  is  the  oldest  house  in  town,  we  surely  should  be 
regarded  as  one  of  the  old  families." 

"  By  what  magic  were  you  able  to  make  so  inviting  a 
home  in  such  a  place  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  that's  Millie's  work,"  she  replied. 

"  I  might  have  known  that,"  he  said,  and  a  sudden 
shadow  crossed  his  face.  Quickly  as  it  passed  away,  she  saw  it. 

' '  Yes, ' '  she  resumed  in  a  low,  earnest  tone — for  she  had 
no  scruple  in  fanning  the  flame  of  his  love  which  she  more 
than  half  believed  might  yet  be  rewarded — "  Millie  is  one  of 
a  million.  She  will  be  our  main  dependence,  I  fear.  She 
is  so  strong  and  sensible." 

"  Is — is  not  Mr.  Jocelyn  well  ?"  he  asked  apprehensively. 

"  I  fear  he  isn't  well  at  all,"  she  answered  with  some  de 
spondency.  "  He  is  sleeping  now  ;  he  always  rests  Sunday 
afternoon,  and  we  try  to  let  him  rest  all  he  can.  He  sleeps, 
or  rather  dozes,  a  great  deal,  and  seems  losing  his  strength 
and  energy,"  and  she  spoke  quite  frankly  concerning  their 
plans,  projects,  and  hopes.  She  believed  in  Roger,  and  knew 
him  to  be  a  sincere  friend,  and  it  was  her  nature  to  be  very 
outspoken  where  she  had  confidence.  "  If  Millie  can  learn 
thoroughly  what  she  is  now  studying,"  she  concluded,  "  I 
think  we  can  get  along. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  said  Roger,  in  low,  sad  emphasis,  "  your  sister  is 
indeed  one  of  a  million,  and  my  chance  of  winning  one 
friendly  thought  from  her  also  seems  but  one  in  a  million. 
Belle,  let  us  understand  each  other  from  the  start  I  have 


?58  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

come  to  the  city  to  stay,  and  I  intend  to  succeed.  I  have  an 
uncle  in  town  who  has  given  me  a  chance,  and  he'll  do  more 
for  me,  I  think.  He's  peculiar,  but  he's  shrewd  and  sensi 
ble,  and  when  he  is  convinced  that  I  intend  to  carry  out  cer 
tain  plans  he  will  aid  me.  He  is  watching  me  now,  and 
thinks  I  am  here  only  from  a  restless  impulse  to  see  the 
world  ;  by  and  by  he  will  know  better.  He  has  the  obsti 
nate  Atwood  blood,  and  if  he  takes  a  notion  to  give  me  a 
chance  to  get  a  first-class  education,  he  will  see  me  through. 
I'm  going  to  have  one  anyway,  but  of  course  I'd  rather  be 
able  to  get  it  in  five  or  six  years  than  in  eight  or  ten  years,  as 
would  be  the  case  if  I  had  to  work  my  own  way.  I  am  now 
employed  in  his  commission  store  down  town,  but  I  am 
studying  every  spare  moment  I  can  get,  and  he  knows  it, 
only  he  thinks  it  won't  last.  But  it  will,  and  I  shall  at  least 
try  to  be  one  of  the  first  lawyers  in  this  city.  What's  more, 
I  shall  work  as  few  young  men  are  willing  to  work  or  can 
work,  for  I  am  strong,  and — well,  I  have  motives  for  work 
that  are  not  usual,  perhaps.  You  see  I  am  frank  with  you 
as  you  have  been  with  me.  You  often  talk  like  a  gay  child, 
but  I  understand  you  well  enough  to  know  that  you  are  a 
whole-souled  little  woman,  and  thoroughly  worthy  of  trust ; 
and  I  have  told  you  more  about  myself  and  present  plans 
than  any  one  else.  Clara  Bute  informed  me  all  about  your 
courage  at  the  store,  and  I  felt  proud  that  I  knew  you,  and 
don't  intend  that  you  shall  ever  be  ashamed  of  me.  You 
may  tell  your  mother  all  this  if  you  please,  because  I  wish  her 
to  know  just  what  kind  of  a  young  fellow  I  am,  and  what  are 
my  connections  and  prospects.  I  would  much  like  to  come 
and  see  you  and  go  out  with  you  now  and  then  ;  and  if  you 
and  your — well,  your  family  should  ever  need  any  service 
that  it  was  in  my  power  to  render,  I  should  like  you  all  to 
feel  that  I  am  not  altogether  unfit  to  give  it,  or  to  be  your 
associate. ' ' 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  259 

"  You  needn't  talk  that  way,"  said  Belle  ;  "  you  are  up  in 
the  world  compared  with  us." 

' '  I  mean  every  word  I  say.  I  respect  your  mother  as  I 
do  my  own,  for  I  have  seen  her  beautiful  life  and  beautiful 
face  for  weeks  and  months.  I  never  expect  to  see  a  more 
perfect  and  genuine  lady.  I  am  not  well  versed  in  society's 
ways,  but  I  assure  you  I  would  make  every  effort  in  my  power 
to  act  as  she  would  think  a  young  man  ought  to  act.  I'd 
rather  fight  a  dragon  than  displease  her. ' ' 

Tears  of  gratified  feeling  were  in  Belle's  eyes,  but  she  said 
brusquely.  "  Not  versed  in  society's  ways  !  Account,  then, 
for  that  fashionable  suit  of  clothes  you  are  wearing." 

"  They  were  not  cut  in  Forestville,"  he  replied  dryly. 

"  Roger,"  she  said  impulsively,  "I'm  wonderfully  glad 
you've  come  to  New  York  to  live,  for  I  was  dying  for  a  little 
society  and  fun  that  mother  and  Millie  wouldn't  disapprove 
of.  They  are  so  particular,  you  know,  that  I  fairly  ache 
from  trying  to  walk  in  the  strait  and  narrow  path  which  is 
so  easy  for  them.  I  want  a  lark.  I  must  have  a  lark  before 
long,  or  I'll  explode.  What  can  we  do  that  will  be  real 
genuine  fun.  It  will  do  you  good,  too,  or  you'll  become  a 
dull  boy  with  nothing  but  work,  work,  work.  You  needn't 
tell  me  the  world  was  only  made  to  work  in  If  it  was,  I've 
no  business  here.  You  must  think  up  something  spicy,  and 
no  make  believe  I  want  to  go  somewhere  where  I  can  laugh 
with  my  whole  heart.  I  can't  go  on  much  longer  at  this 
old  humdrum,  monotonous  jog,  any  more  than  your  colts 
up  at  the  farm  could  go  around  like  the  plough-horses,  and  I 
know  it  isn'  t  right  to  expect  it  of  me.  And  yet  what  has 
been  the  case  ?  Off  early  in  the  morning  to  work,  standing 
all  day  till  I'm  lame  in  body  and  mad  in  spirit — stupid 
owls  to  make  us  stand  till  we  are  so  out  of  sorts  that  we  are 
ready  to  bite  customers'  heads  off  instead  of  waiting  on  'em 
pleasantly.  When  I  come  home,  mamma  often  looks  tired 


260  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

and  sad,  for  this  life  is  wearing  on  her,  and  she  is  worrying 
in  secret  over  papa's  health.  Millie,  too,  is  tired  and  down 
hearted  in  spite  of  her  trying  to  hide  it.  She  won' t  go  out 
anywhere  because  she  says  there  are  no  places  where  young 
girls  can  go  unattended  that  are  within  our  means.  I've 
got  tired  of  the  other  shop-girls.  A  few  of  them  are  nice  ; 
but  more  of  them  are  stupid  or  coarse,  so  I  just  sit  around 
and  mope,  and  go  to  bed  early  to  get  through  the  time.  If  I 
even  try  to  romp  with  the  children  a  little,  mamma  looks 
distressed,  fearing  I  will  disturb  papa,  who  of  late,  when  he 
comes  out.  of  his  dozing  condition,  is  strangely  irritable.  A 
year  ago  he'd  romp  and  talk  nonsense  with  me  to  my  heart's 
content ;  but  that's  all  passed.  Now  is  it  natural  for  a 
young  girl  little  more  than  sixteen  to  live  such  a  life?" 

"  No,  Belle,  it  is  not,  and  yet  I  have  seen  enough  of  the 
city  during  the  week  I  have  been  here  to  know  that  your 
mother  and  sister  are  right  in  their  restrictions." 

"  Well,  then,  it's  a  burning  shame  that  in  a  city  called 
Christian  a  poor  girl  is  not  more  safe  outside  of  her  own 
door  than  if  she  were  in  a  jungle.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that 
girls,  situated  as  Millie  and  I  are,  must  remain  cooped 
up  in  little  rooms  the  year  round  when  our  'vork  is 
over  ?' ' 

"  The  street  is  no  place  for  you  to  take  recreation  in  after 
nightfall  ;  and  where  else  you  can  gc  unattended  I'm  sure  I 
don't  know.  If  there  is  any  place,  I'll  find  out,  for  I  intend 
to  study  this  city  from  top  to  bottom.  A  lawyer  is  bound  to 
know  life  as  it  is,  above  all  things.  But  you  needn't  worry 
about  this  question  in  the  abstract  any  more.  I'll  see  that 
you  have  a  good  time  occasionally.  Your  sister  will  not  go 
with  me,  at  least  not  yet — perhaps  never — but  that  is  not  my 
fault.  I've  only  one  favor  to  ask  of  you,  Belle,  and  I'll  do 
many  in  return.  Please  never,  by  word,  or  even  by  look, 
make  my  presence  offensive  or  obtrusive  to  Miss  Mildred 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  261 

If  you  will  be  careful  I  will  not  prove  so  great  an  affliction 
as  she  fears. ' ' 

"  Roger  Atwood,  do  you  read  people's  thoughts  ?" 

1 '  Oh,  no,  I  only  see  what  is  to  be  seen,  and  draw  my  con 
clusions,"  he  said,  a  little  sadly. 

"  Well,  then,  if  you  can  have  the  tact  and  delicacy  to  fol 
low  such  good  eyesight,  you  may  fare  better  than  you  ex 
pect,"  she  whispered  at  the  chapel  door. 

He  turned  toward  her  with  a  quick  flash,  but  she  had 
stepped  forward  into  the  crowd  passing  through  the  vestibule. 
From  that  moment,  however,  a  ray  of  hope  entered  his 
heart,  and  in  quiet  resolve  he  decided  to  conform  his  tactics 
to  the  hint  just  received. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  followed  half  a  block  away,  and 
the  former  said  to  her  daughter  :  "There  they  go,  Millie, 
chattering  together  like  two  children.  You  surely  take  this 
affair  too  seriously.  His  sudden  and  boyish  infatuation  with 
you  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  He  had  never 
seen  a  girl  like  you  before,  and  you  awoke  him  into  some 
thing  like  manhood.  Very  young  men  are  prone  to  fall  in 
love  with  women  older  than  themselves,  or  those  who  seem 
older,  and  speedily  to  fall  out  again.  Martin  has  often  said 
his  first  flame  is  now  a  gray-headed  lady,  and  yet  he  was  sure 
at  one  time  he  never  could  endure  life  without  her.  You 
know  that  I  consoled  him  quite  successfully,"  and  Mildred 
was  pleased  to  hear  the  old,  sweet  laugh  that  was  becoming 
too  rare  of  late.  Even  now  it  ended  in  a  sigh.  Mr.  Joce 
lyn  was  losing  his  resemblance  to  the  man  she  had  accepted 
in  those  bright  days  that  now  seemed  so  long  ago. 

"  I  hope  you  are  right,  mamma.  It  seems  as  if  I  ought 
to  laugh  at  the  whole  affair  and  good-naturedly  show  him 
his  folly,  but  for  some  reason  I  can't.  He  affects  me  very 
strangely.  While  I  feel  a  strong  repulsion,  I  am  beginning 
to  fear  him — to  become  conscious  of  his  intensity  and  the 


262  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

tenacity  and  power  of  his  will.  I  didn't  understand  him  at 
first,  and  I  don' t  now,  but  if  he  were  an  ordinary,  impulsive 
young  fellow  he  would  not  impress  me  as  he  does." 

"  Don't  you  think  him  true  and  good  at  heart?" 

"I've  no  reason  to  think  him  otherwise.  I  can't  explain 
to  you  how  I  feel,  nor  do  I  understand  it  myself.  He  seems 
the  embodiment  of  a  certain  kind  of  force,  and  I  always 
shrank  from  mere  force,  whether  in  nature  or  people." 

"  I  can  tell  you  how  it  is,  Millie.  Quiet  and  gentle  as 
you  seem,  you  have  a  tremendous  will  of  your  own,  and  very 
strong-willed  people  don' t  get  on  well  together. ' ' 

"  Astute  little  mother !  Well,  explain  it  in  any  way  that 
pleases  you,  only  keep  your  promise  not  to  let  him  become 
the  bane  of  my  life." 

"  I'm  not  at  all  sure  but  that  Belle  will  soon  usurp  your 
place  in  his  regard,  nor  would  I  object,  for  I  am  very  anxious 
about  the  child.  I  know  that  her  present  life  seems  dull  to 
her,  and  the  temptations  of  the  city  to  a  girl  with  a  nature 
like  hers  are  legion.  He  can  be  a  very  useful  friend  to  her, 
and  he  seems  to  me  manly  and  trustworthy.  I'  m  not  often 
deceived  in  my  impressions  of  people,  and  he  inspires  me 
with  confidence,  and  has  from  the  first  I  never  saw  any 
thing  underhand  in  him  at  the  farm." 

"  Oh,  no,  he's  honest  enough,  no  doubt." 

"There,  Millie,"  resumed  her  mother,  laughing,  "you 
have  a  woman's  reason  for  your  feelings — you  don't  like  him, 
and  that  is  the  end  of  it  You  must  admit,  however,  that 
'  he  has  improved  wonderfully.  I  never  saw  a  young  fellow  so 
changed,  so  thoroughly  waked  up.  He  has  sense,  too,  in 
little  things.  One  would  think  from  his  dress  he  had  been 
born  and  bred  in  the  city.  They  didn't  palm  off  an  old- 
fashioned  suit  on  him,  if  he  was  from  the  country. 

"  Chant  his  praises  to  Belle,  mamma,  and  she  will  greatly 
appreciate  this  last  proof  of  his  superiority.  To  me  he 


ROGER  REAPPEARS.  263 

seems  like  his  clothes — a  little  too  new.  Still  I  admit  that 
he  can  be  of  very  great  service  to  Belle  ;  and  if  he  will  re 
strict  his  attentions  to  her  I  will  be  as  polite  as  either  of  you 
can  wish.  I,  too,  feel  a  very  deep  sympathy  for  Belle.  She 
is  little  more  than  a  child,  and  yet  her  life  is  imposing  upon 
her  the  monotonous  work  of  a  middle-aged  woman,  and  I 
fear  the  consequences.  It's  contrary  to  nature,  and  no  one 
knows  it  better  than  she.  If  he  will  help  us  take  care  of  her 
I  shall  be  grateful  indeed  ;  but  if  he  grows  sentimental  and 
follows  me  as  he  did  this  morning,  I  could  not  endure  it — 
indeed  I  could  not" 

"  Well,    Millie  dear,  we  won't  cross  any  bridges  till  we 
come  to  them." 


264  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

THE  DARK  SHADOW  OF  COMING  EVENTS. 

DURING  the  sermon  it  must  be  admitted  that  Belle's 
thoughts  wandered  from  the  text  and  its  able  de 
velopment  by  Mr.  Wentworth.  In  fact,  she  was  developing 
a  little  scheme  of  her  own,  and,  as  the  result,  whispered  at 
the  close  of  service,  "Mamma,  Roger  and  I  are  going  to 
take  a  walk  in  the  Park.  Can't  I  ask  him  home  to  supper? 
This  is  his  first  Sunday  in  town,  and  it  will  be  so  dismal — " 

"  Yes,  child,  go  and  have  a  good  time." 

Within  the  next  five  minutes  radiant  Belle  was  an  uncon 
scious  embodiment  of  foreordination  to  Roger.  He  had  had 
no  idea  of  going  to  the  Park,  but  Belle  had  decreed  he  should 
go,  and  as  he  smilingly  accompanied  her  he  certainly  re 
mained  a  very  contented  free  agent. 

It  was  a  clear,  bracing  afternoon  and  evening,  wherein  were 
blended  the  characteristics  of  both  autumn  and  winter,  and 
the  young  people  returned  with  glowing  cheeks  and  quick 
ened  pulses. 

"  Oh,  Millie  !"  cried  Belle,  "  such  a  walk  as  I  have  had 
would  make  you  over  new.  I  felt  as  if  I  were  a  hundred 
this  morning,  but  now  I  feel  just  about  sixteen — that  was 
my  last  birthday,  wasn't  it,  mamma  ?" 

Both  mother  and  sister  smiled  to  see  her  sparkling  eyes 
and  bubbling  happiness  ;  and  the  latter  thought,  "  For  her 
sake  I  must  certainly  either  master  or  conceal  my  dislike  for 
that  young  fellow." 


THE  DARK  SHADOW  OF  COMING  EVENTS.    265 

Indeed,  she  herself  appeared  sadly  in  need  of  a  little  vigor 
ous  exercise  in  the  frosty  air.  The  events  of  the  day  had 
been  exceedingly  depressing  ;  despondency  had  taken  the 
place  of  the  irritation  and  the  hopes  and  fears  that  had  alter 
nated  in  the  morning  hours  ;  but  she  unselfishly  tried  to 
disguise  it,  and  to  aid  her  mother  in  preparing  an  inviting 
supper  for  Belle  and  her  guest. 

Mildred  was  obliged  to  admit  to  herself  that  Roger  had 
very  little  of  the  appearance  and  manner  of  an  uncouth  coun 
tryman.  There  was  a  subtle,  half-conscious  homage  for  her 
mother  in  his  every  look  and  word,  and  for  herself  a  polite 
ness  almost  as  distant  and  unobtrusive  as  her  own.  Once, 
when  a  sigh  escaped  her  as  she  was  busy  about  the  room, 
she  looked  apprehensively  at  him,  and,  as  she  feared,  en 
countered  a  glance  from  which  nothing  could  escape.  She 
now  felt  that  her  assumed  cheerfulness  deceived  him  so  little 
that,  were  it  not  for  Belle,  she  would  wholly  forego  the  effort, 
and  end  the  long,  miserable  day  in  her  own  room. 

Suddenly  the  thought  occurred  to  her  :  "  I  will  learn  from 
his  microscopic  eyes  how  papa  appears  to  others  not  blinded 
by  love  as  we  are  ;  for,  in  spite  of  all  my  efforts  to  look  on 
the  bright  side,  I  am  exceedingly  ill  at  ease  about  him.  I 
fear  he  is  failing  faster  than  we  think — we  who  see  him  daily. 
Mr.  Atwood  has  not  seen  him  for  months,  and  the  least 
change  would  be  apparent  to  him." 

Immunity  from  business  induced  Mr.  Jocelyn  to  gratify 
his  cravings  more  unstintedly  on  Sunday  ;  and  as  he  was 
often  exceedingly  irritable  if  disturbed  when  sleeping  off  the 
effects  of  an  extra  indulgence,  they  usually  left  him  to  wake 
of  his  own  accord.  Unfortunately  the  walls  of  his  apartment 
were  but  curtains,  and  his  loud  breathings  made  it  necessary 
to  rouse  him.  This  Mrs.  Jocelyn  accomplished  with  some 
difficulty,  but  did  not  mention  the  presence  of  Roger,  fearing 
that  in  his  half-wakened  condition  he  might  make  some 


266  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

remark  which  would  hurt  the  young  man's  feelings.  She 
merely  assisted  him  to  arrange  his  disordered  hair  and  dress, 
and  then  led  the  way  to  the  supper-table,  he  in  the  mean 
time  protesting  petulantly  that  he  wished  no  supper,  but 
would  rather  have  slept. 

As  he  emerged  from  the  curtained  doorway,  Mildred's 
eyes  were  fastened  on  Roger's  face,  determined  that  nothing 
in  its  expression  should  escape  her.  He  at  the  moment  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  laughing  reply  to  one  of  Belle's  funny 
speeches,  but  he  stopped  instantly  and  turned  pale  as  his 
eyes  rested  on  the  visage  of  her  father.  Had  that  face  then 
changed  so  greatly  ?  Had  disease  made  such  havoc  that  this 
comparative  stranger  was  aghast  and  could  not  conceal  the 
truth  that  he  was  shocked  ? 

Jt  was  with  sharp  anguish  that  these  queries  flashed  through 
Mildred's  mind,  and,  with  her  own  perceptions  sharpened 
and  quickened,  she  saw  that  her  father  had  indeed  changed 
very  greatly  ;  he  had  grown  much  thinner  ;  his  complexion 
had  an  unnatural,  livid  aspect  ;  his  old  serene,  frank  look 
was  absent,  and  a  noticeable  contraction  in  the  pupils  of  his 
eyes  gave  an  odd,  sinister  aspect  to  his  expression. 

There  were  other  changes  that  were  even  more  painful  to 
witness.  In  former  days  he  had  been  the  embodiment  of 
genial  Southern  hospitality  ;  but  now,  although  he  made  a 
visible  effort  for  self-control,  his  whole  body  seemed  one  dis 
eased  irritable  nerve. 

Roger  almost  instantly  overcame  his  pained  surprise,  yet 
not  so  quickly  but  that  it  was  observed  by  all,  and  even  by 
him  who  had  been  the  cause.  "  I  am  very  sorry  to  learn 
you  are  not  in  good  health,"  he  was  indiscreet  enough  to 
say  as  he  offered  his  hand  in  greeting. 

"  From  whom  have  you  learned  this?"  demanded  Mr. 
Jocelyn,  looking  angrily  and  suspiciously  around.  "  I 
assure  you  that  you  are  mistaken.  I  never  was  in  better 


THE  DARK  SHADOW  OF  COMING  EVENTS.    267 

health,  and  I  am  not  pleased  that  any  one  should  gossip 
about  me." 

They  sat  down  under  a  miserable  constraint — Belle  flushed 
and  indignant,  Mildred  no  longer  disguising  her  sadness,  and 
poor  Mrs.  Jocelyn  with  moist  eyes  making  a  pitiful  attempt  to 
restore  serenity  so  that  Belle's  happy  day  might  not  become 
clouded.  Roger  tried  to  break  the  evil  spell  by  giving  his 
impressions  of  the  Park  to  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  but  was  interrupted 
by  her  husband,  who  had  been  watching  the  young  man  with 
a  perplexed,  suspicious  look,  vainly  trying  to  recall  the  name 
of  one  whose  face  was  familiar  enough,  remarking  at  last 
very  satirically,  "  Has  it  ceased  to  be  the  style  to  introduce 
people,  especially  at  one' s  own  table  ?  I  might  appreciate 
this  gentleman's  conversation  better  if  I  knew  his  name." 

They  all  looked  at  each  other  in  sudden  dismay,  for  they 
could  not  know  that  opium  impairs  memory  as  well  as  health 
and  manhood.  "  Martin,"  cried  his  wife,  in  a  tone  of  sharp 
distress,  "  You  are  ill,  indeed.  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to 
disguise  the  truth  any  longer.  What !  don't  you  remember 
Roger  Atwood,  the  son  of  the  kind  friends  with  whom  we 
spent  the  summer?"  and  in  spite  of  all  effort  tears  blinded 
her  eyes. 

The  wretched  man's  instinct  of  self-preservation  was 
aroused.  He  saw  from  the  looks  of  all  about  him  that  he  was 
betraying  himself  —  that  he  was  wholly  off  his  balance. 
While  vividly  and  painfully  aware  of  his  danger,  his  enfeebled 
will  and  opium-clouded  mind  were  impotent  to  steady  and 
sustain  him  or  to  direct  his  course.  He  had  much  of  the 
terror  and  all  the  sense  of  helplessness  of  a  man  who  finds 
himself  in  deep  water  and  cannot  swim.  He  trembled,  the 
perspiration  started  out  on  his  brow,  and  his  one  impulse  now 
was  to  be  alone  with  his  terrible  master,  that  had  become  the 
sole  source  of  his  semblance  of  strength  as  well  as  of  his  real 
and  fatal  weakness.  "  I — I  fear  I  am  ill,"  he  faltered. 


268  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  I'll  go  out  and  get  a  little  air,"  and  he  was  about  to  leave 
the  room  almost  precipitately. 

' '  Oh,  Martin, ' '  expostulated  his  wife,  ' '  don' t  go  out — at 
least  not  alone." 

Again  he  lost  control  of  himself,  and  said  savagely,  "  I 
will.  Don't  any  one  dare  to  follow  me,"  and  he  almost 
rushed  away. 

For  a  moment  Mrs.  Jocelyn  tried  to  bear  up  from  instinc 
tive  politeness,  but  her  lip  quivered  like  that  of  a  child  ;  then 
the  tide  of  her  feeling  swept  her  away,  and  she  fled  to  the 
adjoining  apartment.  Mildred  followed  her  at  once,  and 
Belle,  with  a  white,  scared  face,  looked  into  Roger's  eyes. 
He  rose  and  came  directly  to  her  and  said,  "  Belle,  you 
know  you  can  always  count  on  me.  Your  father  is  so  ill 
that  I  think  I  had  better  follow  him.  I  can  do  so  un 
observed.  ' ' 

"  Oh,  Roger — why — is — is  papa  losing  his  mind  ?" 

His  quick  eye  now  noted  that  Fred  and  Minnie  had  be 
come  so  impressed  that  something  dreadful  had  happened 
that  they  were  about  to  make  the  occasion  more  painful  by 
their  outcries,  and  he  turned  smilingly  to  them,  and  with  a 
lew  reassuring  words  and  promises  soon  quieted  their  fears. 
"  Be  a  brave  little  woman,  Belle,"  he  at  last  said  to  her. 
"  There  is  my  address,  and  please  promise  to  let  me  know 
if  I  can  do  anything  for  you  and  for — for  Mrs.  Jocelyn." 

"  Don't  go  —  please  don't  go  yet,"  Belle  pleaded. 
"  Papa's  looks  and  words  to-night  fill  me  with  a  strange 
fear  as  if  something  awful  might  happen." 

' '  Perhaps  if  I  follow  your  father  I  may  prevent — ' ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  go  at  once." 

He  was  intercepted  at  the  door  by  the  entrance  of  Mr. 
Jocelyn,  who  had  had  ample  time  in  the  few  brief  minutes 
that  had  elapsed  to  fill  his  system  with  the  subtle  stimulant. 
He  now  took  Roger  by  the  hand  most  cordially,  and  said. 


THE  DARK  SHADOW  OF  COMING  EVENTS.    269 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Atwood.  My  health  has  become  some 
what  impaired  of  late,  and  I  fear  I  have  just  had  a  rather  bad 
turn  ;  but  the  air  has  revived  me,  and  the  trouble  now  has 
passed.  I  insist  that  you  stay  and  spend  the  evening  with  us. ' ' 

"Oh,  papa,"  cried  Belle,  rushing  into  his  arms,  "how 
you  frightened  us  !  Please  go  into  my  room,  there,  and 
comfort  mamma  by  telling  her  you  are  all  well  again." 

This  he  did  so  effectively  that  he  soon  led  her  out  smiling 
through  her  tears,  for  her  confidence  in  him  was  the  growth 
and  habit  of  years,  and  anything  he  said  to  her  seemed  for 
the  moment  true.  And,  indeed,  the  man  was  so  changed 
that  it  was  hard  to  realize  he  was  not  well.  His  face,  in 
contrast  with  its  aspect  a  few  moments  since,  appeared  to 
have  regained  its  natural  hue  and  expression  ;  every  trace  of 
irritability  had  passed  away,  and  with  his  old-time,  easy 
courtesy  and  seeming  frankness  he  talked  so  plausibly  of  it 
all  that  Belle  and  his  wife,  and  even  Roger,  felt  that  they 
had  attached  undue  importance  to  a  mere  temporary  indispo 
sition. 

Mildred  made  great  effort  to  be  cheerful  for  her  father's 
sake,  but  the  pallor  did  not  pass  from  her  face,  nor  the  look 
of  deep  anxiety  from  her  eyes.  The  shadow  of  coming  trou 
ble  had  fallen  too  heavily  upon  her,  and  that  the  marked  ex 
hibition  of  her  father's  failing  powers  should  have  occurred 
at  this  time  added  to  the  impression  that  Roger  Atwood  was 
their  evil  genius.  She  recalled  the  fact  that  he  seemingly 
had  been  the  first  exciting  cause  of  her  father's  unnatural 
behavior,  and  now  his  reappearance  was  the  occasion  of  the 
most  convincing  proof  they  had  yet  received  that  the  one 
upon  whom  they  all  depended  was  apparently  failing  in  both 
mind  and  body.  Even  now,  while  he  was  doing  his  best  to 
reassure  and  render  happy  his  family,  there  was  to  her  per 
ception  an  unreality  in  his  words  and  manner.  She  almost 
imagined,  too,  that  he  feared  to  meet  her  eye  and  shunned 


27°  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

doing  so.  Not  in  the  remotest  degree,  however,  did  she  sus 
pect  the  cause  of  his  suddenly  varying  moods  and  changed 
appearance,  but  regarded  all  as  the  result  of  his  misfortunes  ; 
and  the  miserable  presentiment  grew  strong  upon  her  that 
soon — alas  !  too  soon^ — she  would  be  the  slender  reed  on 
which  they  all  would  lean.  If  she  could  have  six  months, 
only,  of  careful  preparation  she  would  not  so  dread  the  bur 
den  ;  but  if  now,  or  soon,  the  whole  responsibility  of  the 
family's  support  should  come  upon  her  and  Belle,  what 
would  they  do  ?  Her  heart  sank,  and  her  very  soul  cowered 
at  the  prospect.  She  could  not  live  in  the  present  hour  like 
Belle,  but  with  too  keen  a  foresight  realized  how  dark  and 
threatening  was  the  future. 

The  night  was  clear  and  beautiful,  and  Roger  and  Belle 
went  up  to  the  platform  built  over  the  roof.  Not  long  after 
ward  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Mr.  Ulph  appeared. 
"  Der  night  vas  goot, "  he  said  to  Mildred,  "  und  I  vill  gif 
you  von  leedle  glimpse  off  hefen  if  you  vould  like  him." 

The  poor  girl  felt  that  she  certainly  needed  a  glimpse  of 
something  bright  and  reassuring,  and  wrapping  herself  warmly 
she  followed  her  quaint  friend  to  the  roof. 

Roger  grew  taciturn  as  he  watched  the  dim  outline  of  her 
form  and  her  white,  upturned  face.  She  seemed  as  cold  and 
distant  to  him  as  the  stars  at  which  she  gazed,  and  he  thought 
dejectedly,  "  The  least  of  them  have  an  interest  for  her 
greater  than  I  shall  ever  be  able  to  inspire." 

He  overrated  her  interest  in  the  stars  on  that  occasion, 
however,  for  though  she  did  her  best  to  follow  the  old 
astronomer's  words,  her  heart  was  too  sorrowful  and  preoccu 
pied,  and  her  eyes  too  often  blinded  by  tears,  which  once  glit 
tered  so  distinctly  in  the  rays  of  a  brilliant  planet  that  her 
companion  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  sentence  and  looked  at 
her  keenly. 

"  You  vas  not  habby,  my  leedle  schild, "  he  said  kindly. 
"  Dere's  someding  droubiing  you  heart ;  put  you  gan  no  see 


THE  DARK  SHADOW  OF  COMING  EVENTS.    271 

vay  inter  der  hefens  drew  dears  do'  dey  vas  glear  as  der  lens 
off  my  glass. ' ' 

4 '  I  fear  I  shall  have  to  see  through  tears  very  often,  if  I  see  at 
all,"  Mildred  replied,  with  a  low,  suppressed  sob.  "  Forgive 
me  to-night.  I  </<?feel  grateful  that  you  are  willing  to  show  me 
— but — I — I — well,  I  am  troubled  to-night  about  something, 
and  I  can' t  control  myself.  To-morrow  night  F 11  be  braver,  and 
will  help  you.  Please  don't  feel  hurt  if  I  leave  you  now." 

"  Ah,  mine  leedle  girl,  learn  vrom  der  schtars  dot  der 
great  laws  moost  be  opeyed,  und  don' t  you  vorry  und  vret 
ober  vat  you  gannot  help.  Shust  you  go  along  quiet  und 
easy  like  Shupiter  oup  dere.  Lots  off  dings  vill  dry  to  bull 
dis  vay  and  dot  vay  outen  der  right  orpit,  put  dond  you 
mind  'em,  und  shust  go  right  schtrait  along  und  not  care. 
You  veels  too  mooch  apout  oder  beoples.  Der  schtars  deach 
you  petter  ;  dey  goes  right  on  der  own  vay  und  about  der 
own  pisness,  unless  dey  vas  voolish  leedle  schtars,  like  dot 
von  dere  dots  shust  gone  to  der  duyvel  vrom  runin  outen  his 
vay  toward  der  earth. 

She  might  have  reminded  him  that,  if  she  had  acted  upon 
this  cold  and  selfish  philosophy,  his  little  child  would  now  be 
sleeping  in  a  distant  cemetery  instead  of  in  his  warm  crib, 
but  she  only  said,  ' '  Good-night,  Mr.  Ulph  ;  I'  11  do  better 
next  time, ' '  and  she  hurried  away.  She  felt  that  the  sun  and 
centre  of  their  family  life  was  passing  under  a  strange  and 
lasting  eclipse,  and  the  result  might  be  darkness — chaos. 

She  wiped  her  eyes  carefully,  that  no  traces  of  grief  might 
appear,  and  then  entered  their  room.  Her  mother  was 
putting  the  children  to  bed,  and  her  father  looking  dreamily 
out  of  the  window.  She  kissed  him,  and  said  briefly,  "I'm 
tired  and  think  I  will  retire  early  so  as  to  be  ready  for  my 
work."  He  made  no  effort  to  detain  her.  She  clasped  her 
mother  in  a  momentary  passionate  embrace,  and  then  shut 
herself  up  to  a  night  of  almost  sleepless  grief. 


272  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

WAXING  AND  WANING  MANHOOD. 

OTH  Belle  and  Roger  saw  that  Mildred  had  not  been 
JLJ  reassured  by  Mr.  Jocelyn's  return  and  manner ;  and 
as  they  thought  it  ovei  they  found  it  difficult  to  account  for 
his  strangely  varying  moods.  After  a  rather  lame  effort  to 
chat  cheerily,  Roger  bade  Belle  good-night,  and  assured  her 
that  she  now  had  a  friend  always  within  call. 

His  uncle's  modest  residence  was  in  a  side  street  and  not 
far  away,  but  the  young  fellow  walked  for  hours  before  ap 
plying  his  night-key  to  the  door.  What  he  had  seen  and 
heard  that  day  touched  his  heart's  core,  and  the  influences 
that  were  so  rapidly  developing  his  manhood  were  greatly 
strengthened.  For  Belle  he  now  had  a  genuine  liking  and 
not  a  little  respect.  He  saw  her  foibles  clearly,  and  under 
stood  that  she  was  still  more  a  child  than  a  woman,  and  so 
should  not  be  judged  by  the  standards  proper  for  those  of 
mature  age  ;  but  he  also  saw  the  foundations  on  which  a 
noble  womanhood  might  be  built.  She  inspired  a  sense  of 
comradeship  and  honest  friendliness  which  would  easily 
deepen  into  fraternal  love,  but  Mrs.  Jocelyn's  surmise  that 
she  might  some  day  touch  that  innermost  spring  which  con 
trols  the  entire  man  had  no  true  basis.  Nor  would  there 
have  been  any  possibility  of  this  had  he  never  seen  Mildred. 
A  true  man — one  governed  by  heart  and  mind,  not  passion 
— meets  many  women  whom  he  likes  and  admires  exceed 
ingly,  but  who  can  never  quicken  his  pulse.  On  Mildred, 


WAXING  AND  WANING  MANHOOD.  273 

however — although  she  coveted  the  gift  so  little — was  be 
stowed  the  power  to  touch  the  most  hidden  and  powerful 
principles  of  his  being,  to  awaken  and  stimulate  every  faculty 
he  possessed.  Her  words  echoed  and  re-echoed  in  the  re 
cesses  of  his  soul  ;  even  her  cold,  distant  glances  were  like 
rays  of  a  tropical  sun  to  which  his  heart  could  offer  no  re 
sistance  ;  and  yet  they  were  by  no  means  enervating.  Some 
natures  would  have  grown  despondent  over  prospects  seem 
ingly  so  hopeless,  but  Roger  was  of  a  different  type.  His 
deep  and  unaccepted  feeling  did  not  flow  back  upon  his 
spirit,  quenching  it  in  dejection  and  despair,  but  it  became 
a  resistless  tide  back  of  his  purpose  to  win  her  recognition 
and  respect  at  least,  and  his  determination  to  prove  himself 
her  peer.  A  girl  so  beautiful  and  womanly  might  easily  gain 
such  power  over  several  men  without  any  conscious  effort, 
remaining  meanwhile  wholly  indifferent  or  even  averse  her- 
self,  and  Roger  had  indeed  but  little  cause  for  hope.  He 
might  realize  every  ambitious  dream  and  win  her  respect  and 
admiration,  and  her  heart  continue  as  unresponsive  as  it  had 
been  from  the  first.  Many  a  man  has  loved  and  waited  in 
vain  ;  and  some  out  of  this  long  adversity  in  that  which 
touched  their  dearest  interests  have  built  the  grandest  suc 
cesses  of  life  and  the  loftiest  and  purest  manhood. 

A  few  months  before,  Roger  seemingly  had  been  a  good- 
natured,  pleasure-loving  country  youth,  who  took  life  as  it 
came,  with  little  thought  for  the  morrow.  Events  had  proved 
that  he  had  latent  and  undeveloped  force.  In  the  material 
world  we  find  substances  that  apparently  are  inert  and  power 
less,  but  let  some  other  substance  be  brought  sufficiently  near, 
and  an  energy  is  developed  that  seems  like  magic,  and  trans 
formations  take  place  that  were  regarded  as  supernatural  in 
times  when  nature's  laws  were  little  understood.  If  this  be 
true  concerning  that  which  is  gross  and  material,  how  much 
more  true  of  the  quick,  informing  spirit  that  can  send  out  its 


274  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

thoughts  to  the  farthest  star  !  Strong  souls — once  wholly 
unconscious  of  their  power — at  the  touch  of  adequate  motives 
pass  into  action  and  combinations  which  change  the  charac 
ter  of  the  world  from  age  to  age. 

But  in  the  spiritual  as  in  the  physical  world,  this  develop 
ment  takes  place  in  accordance  with  natural  law  and  within 
the  limitations  of  each  character.  There  is  nothing  strange, 
however  strange  it  may  appear  to  those  who  do  not  under 
stand.  Roger  Atwood  was  not  a  genius  that  would  speedily 
dazzle  the  world  with  bewildering  coruscations.  It  would 
rather  be  his  tendency  to  grow  silent  and  reserved  with  years, 
but  his  old  boyish  alertness  would  not  decline,  or  his  habit  of 
shrewd,  accurate  observation.  He  thus  would  take  few  false 
steps,  and  would  prove  his  force  by  deeds.  Therefore  he  was 
almost  predestined  to  succeed,  for  his  unusually  strong  will 
would  not  drive  him  into  useless  effort  or  against  obstacles 
that  could  be  foreseen  and  avoided. 

After  Mildred's  departure  from  the  country  he  carried  out 
his  plans  in  a  characteristic  way.  He  wrote  frankly  and  de 
cidedly  to  his  uncle  that  he  was  coming  to  the  city,  and 
would  struggle  on  alone  if  he  received  no  aid.  At  the  same 
time  he  suggested  that  he  had  a  large  acquaintance  in  his 
vicinity,  and  therefore  by  judicious  canvassing  among  the 
farmers  he  believed  he  could  bring  much  patronage  with  him. 
This  looked  not  unreasonable  to  the  shrewd  commission 
merchant,  and,  since  his  nephew  was  determined  to  make 
an  excursion  into  the  world,  he  concluded  it  had  bet 
ter  be  done  under  the  safest  and  most  business-like  circum 
stances.  At  the  same  time  recalling  the  character  and 
habits  of  the  country  boy,  as  he  remembered  him,  he  sur 
mised  that  Roger  would  soon  become  homesick  and  glad  to 
go  back  to  his  old  life.  If  retained  under  his  eye,  the  youth 
could  be  kept  out  of  harm* s  way  and  returned  untainted  and 
content  to  be  a  farmer.  He  therefore  wrote  to  Roger  that, 


WAXING  AND  WANING  MANHOOD.  275 

if  his  parents  were  willing,  he  might  secure  what  trade  he 
could  in  farm  produce  and  make  the  trial. 

At  first  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Atwood  would  not  hear  of  the  plan, 
and  the  father  openly  declared  that  it  was  "those  Jocelyn 
girls  that  had  unsettled  the  boy." 

' '  Father, ' '  said  Roger,  a  little  defiantly  and  sarcastically, 
' '  doesn'  t  it  strike  you  that  I'  m  rather  tall  for  a  boy  ?  Did 
you  never  hear  of  a  small  child,  almost  of  age,  choosing  his 
own  course  in  life  ?" 

' '  That  is  not  the  way  to  talk, ' '  said  his  mother  reprov 
ingly.  ' '  We  both  very  naturally  feel  that  it' s  hard,  and 
hardly  right,  too,  for  you  to  leave  us  just  as  we  are  getting 
old  and  need  some  one  to  lean  on." 

"  Do  not  believe,  mother,  that  I  have  not  thought  of 
that,"  was  the  eager  reply  ;  "  and  if  I  have  my  way  you  and 
father,  and  Susan  too,  shall  be  well  provided  for." 

"  Thank  you,"  Mr.  Atwood  snarled  contemptuously. 
"  I'll  get  what  I  can  out  of  the  old  farm,  and  I  don't  expect 
any  provision  from  an  overgrown  boy  whose  head  is  so  turned 
by  two  city  girls  that  he  must  go  dangling  after  them." 

Roger  flushed  hotly,  and  angry  words  rose  to  his  lips,  but 
he  restrained  them  by  a  visible  effort.  After  a  moment  he 
said  quietly,  ' '  You  are  my  father,  and  may  say  what  you 
please.  There  is  but  one  way  of  convincing  you  whether  I 
am  a  boy  or  a  man,  and  I'll  take  it.  You  can  keep  me  here 
till  I'm  twenty-one  if  you  will,  but  you'll  be  sorry.  It  will 
be  so  much  loss  to  me  and  no  gain  to  you.  I've  often  heard 
you  say  the  Atwoods  never  '  drove  well/  and  you  found  out 
years  ago  that  a  good  word  went  further  with  me  than  what  you 
used  to  call  a  '  good  thrashing. '  If  you  let  me  have  my  way, 
now  that  I'm  old  enough  to  choose  for  myself,  I'll  make  your 
old  age  cozy  and  comfortable.  If  you  thwart  me,  as  I  said  be 
fore,  you'll  be  sorry, ' '  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  them. 

Politic  Mrs.  Atwood  had  watched  her  son  closely  for  week/ 


276  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

and  knew  that  something  was  coming,  but  with  woman's 
patience  she  waited  and  was  kind.  No  one  would  miss  him 
so  much  as  she,  and  yet,  mother-like,  she  now  took  sides 
against  her  own  heart.  But  she  saw  that  her  husband  was  in 
no  mood  to  listen  to  her  at  present,  and  nothing  more  was 
said  that  day. 

In  the  evening  Roger  drove  out  in  his  carriage  and  re 
turned  on  horseback. 

"There's  the  money  you  paid  for  the  buggy,  with  in 
terest,"  he  said  to  his  father. 

"  You  aren't  gone  yet,"  was  the  growling  answer. 

"  No  matter.  I  shall  not  ride  in  it  again,  and  you  are  not 
the  loser." 

Roger  had  a  rugged  side  to  his  nature  which  his  father's 
course  often  called  out,  and  Mrs.  Atwood  made  her  husband 
feel,  reluctant  as  he  was  to  admit  it,  that  he  was  taking  the 
wrong  course  with  his  son.  A  letter  also  from  his  brother  in 
town  led  him  to  believe  that  Roger  would  probably  come 
back  in  the  spring  well  content  to  remain  at  home  ;  so  at  last 
he  gave  a  grudging  consent. 

Ungracious  as  it  was,  the  young  man  rewarded  him  by  a 
vigorous,  thorough  completion  of  the  fall  work,  by  painting 
the  house  and  putting  the  place  in  better  order  than  it  had 
ever  known  before  ;  meanwhile  for  his  mother  and  sister  he 
showed  a  consideration  and  gentleness  which  proved  that  he 
was  much  changed  from  his  old  self. 

"  I  can  see  the  hand  of  Mildred  Jocelyn  in  everything  he 
says  and  does,"  Susan  remarked  one  day  after  a  long  fit  of 
musing,  "  and  yet  I  don't  believe  she  cares  a  straw  for  him." 
Her  intuition  was  correct;  it  was  Roger's  ambition  to  be 
come  such  a  man  as  Mildred  must  respect  in  spite  of  herself, 
and  it  was  also  true  that  she  was  not  merely  indifferent,  but 
for  the  reasons  already  given — as  far  as  she  had  reasons — she 
positively  disliked  him. 


WAXING  AND  WANING  MANHOOD.  277 

Roger  brought  sufficient  business  from  the  country  to  pre 
vent  regretful  second  thoughts  in  the  mind  of  his  thrifty  un 
cle,  and  the  impression  was  made  that  the  young  fellow 
might  steady  down  into  a  useful  clerk  ;  but  when  as  much 
was  hinted  Roger  frankly  told  him  that  he  regarded  business 
as  a  stepping-stone  merely  to  the  study  of  the  law.  The  old 
merchant  eyed  him  askance,  but  made  no  response.  Occa 
sionally  the  veteran  of  the  market  evinced  a  glimmer  of  en 
thusiasm  over  a  prime  article  of  butter,  but  anything  so  in 
tangible  as  a  young  man's  ambitious  dreams  was  looked 
upon  with  a  very  cynical  eye.  Still  he  could  not  be  a  part 
of  New  York  life  and  remain  wholly  sceptical  in  regard  to 
the  possibilities  it  offered  to  a  young  fellow  of  talent  and 
large  capacity  for  work.  He  was  a  childless  man,  and  if 
Roger  had  it  in  him  to  "  climb  the  ladder,"  as  he  expressed 
it  to  himself,  "  it  might  pay  to  give  him  the  chance."  But 
the  power  to  climb  would  have  to  be  proved  almost  to  a 
demonstration.  In  the  mean  time  Roger,  well  watched  and 
much  mistrusted,  was  but  a  clerk  in  his  store  near  Washing 
ton  Market,  and  a  student  during  all  spare  hours. 

He  had  too  much  sense  to  attempt  superficial  work  or  to 
seek  to  build  his  fortunes  on  the  slight  foundation  of  mere 
smartness.  It  was  his  plan  to  continue  in  business  for  a  year 
or  more  and  then  enter  the  junior  class  of  one  of  the  city  col 
leges.  By  making  the  most  of  every  moment  and  with  the 
aid  of  a  little  private  tutoring  he  believed  he  could  do  this, 
for  he  was  a  natural  mathematician,  and  would  find  in  the 
classics  his  chief  difficulties.  At  any  rate  it  was  his  fixed  re 
solve  not  to  enter  upon  the  study  of  the  law  proper  until  he 
had  broadened  his  mind  by  considerable  general  culture. 
Not  only  did  his  ambition  prompt  to  this,  but  he  felt  that  if 
he  developed  narrowly  none  would  be  so  clearly  aware  of  the 
fact  as  Mildred  Jocelyn.  Although  not  a  highly  educated 
girl  herself,  he  knew  she  had  a  well-bred  woman's  nice  per- 


278  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

ception  of  what  constituted  a  cultivated  man  ;  he  also  knew 
that  he  had  much  prejudice  to  overcome,  and  that  he  must 
strike  at  its  very  root. 

In  the  mean  time  poor  Mildred,  unconscious  of  all  save 
his  unwelcome  regard,  was  seeking  with  almost  desperate 
earnestness  to  gain  practical  knowledge  of  two  humble  arts, 
hoping  to  be  prepared  for  the  time — now  clearly  foreseen  and 
dreaded — when  her  father  might  decline  so  far  in  mind  and 
health  as  to  fail  them  utterly,  and  even  become  a  heavy  bur 
den.  She  did  not  dream  that  his  disease  was  a  drug,  and 
although  some  of  his  associates  began  to  suspect  as  much,  in 
spite  of  all  his  precautions,  none  felt  called  upon  to  suggest 
their  suspicions  to  his  family. 

Causes  that  work  steadily  will  sooner  or  later  reach  their 
legitimate  results.  The  opium  inertia  grew  inevitably  upon 
Mr.  Jocelyn.  He  disappointed  the  expectations  of  his  em 
ployers  to  that  degree  that  they  felt  that  something  was 
wrong,  and  his  appearance  and  manner  often  puzzled  them 
not  a  little,  even  though  with  all  the  cunning  which  the  habit 
engenders  he  sought  to  hide  his  weakness. 

One  day,  late  in  November,  an  unexpected  incident 
brought  matters  to  a  crisis.  An  experienced  medical 
acquaintance,  while  making  a  call  upon  the  firm,  caught 
sight  of  Mr.  Jocelyn,  and  his  practiced  eye  detected  the 
trouble  at  once. 

"  That  man  is  an  opium-eater,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone, 
and  his  explanation  of  the  effects  of  the  drug  was  a  diagnosis 
of  Mr.  Jocelyn' s  symptoms  and  appearance.  The  firm's 
sympathy  for  a  man  seemingly  in  poor  health  was  transformed 
into  disgust  and  antipathy,  since  there  is  less  popular  toleration 
of  this  weakness  than  of  drinking  habits.  The  very  obscurity 
in  which  the  vice  is  involved  makes  it  seem  all  the  more 
unnatural  and  repulsive,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
fullest  knowledge  tends  only  to  increase  this  horror  and  re- 


WAXING  AND  WANING  MANHOOD.  279 

pugnance,  even  though  pity  is  awakened  for  the  wretched 
victim. 

But  Mr.  Jocelyn's  employers  had  little  knowledge  of  the 
vice,  and  they  were  not  in  the  least  inclined  to  pity.  They 
felt  that  they  had  been  imposed  upon,  and  that  too  at  a  time 
when  all  business  men  were  very  restless  under  useless  ex 
penditure.  It  was  the  man's  fault  and  not  misfortune  that 
he  had  failed  so  signally  in  securing  trade  from  the  South, 
and,  while  they  had  paid  him  but  a  small  salary,  his  ill-directed 
and  Avavering  efforts  had  involved  them  in  considerable  ex 
pense.  Asking  the  physician  to  remain,  they  summoned 
Mr.  Jocelyn  to  the  private  office,  and  directly  charged  him 
with  the  excessive  and  habitual  use  of  opium. 

The  poor  man  was  at  first  greatly  confused,  and  trembled 
as  if  in  an  ague  fit,  for  his  nerve  power  was  already  so  shat 
tered  that  he  had  little  self-control  in  an  emergency.  This, 
of  course,  was  confirmation  of  guilt  in  their  eyes. 

' '  Gentlemen,  you  do  me  a  great  wrong, ' '  he  managed  to 
say,  and  hastily  left  the  office.  Having  secreted  himself  from 
observation  he  snatched  out  his  hypodermic  syringe,  and 
within  six  minutes  felt  himself  equal  to  any  crisis.  Boldly 
returning  to  the  office  he  denied  the  charge  in  the  most  ex 
plicit  terms,  and  with  some  show  of  lofty  indignation.  The 
physician  who  was  still  present  watched  him  closely,  and 
noticed  that  the  cuff  on  his  left  hand  was  somewhat  crum 
pled,  as  if  it  had  been  recently  pushed  back.  Without  a 
word  he  seized  Mr.  Jocelyn's  arm  and  pulled  back  his  coat 
and  shirt  sleeve,  revealing  a  bright  red  puncture  just  made, 
and  many  others  of  a  remoter  date. 

"  There  is  no  use  in  lying  about  such  matters  to  me,"  said 
the  physician.  "  How  much  morphia  did  you  inject  into 
your  arm  since  you  left  us  ?" 

"  I  am  a  victim  of  neuralgia,"  Mr.  Jocelyn  began,  without 
any  hesitation,  "  and  the  cruel  and  unreasonable  charge  here 


2  So  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

made  against  me  brought  on  an  acute  paroxysm,  and  there 
fore  I — " 

"  Stop  that  nonsense,"  interrupted  the  doctor,  roughly. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  lying,  when  lying  is  of  no  use,  is 
one  of  the  characteristic  traits  of  an  opium-eater  ?  I  am  a 
physician,  and  have  seen  too  many  cases  to  be  deceived  a 
moment  You  have  all  the  symptoms  of  a  confirmed  mor 
phia  consumer,  and  if  you  ever  wish  to  break  your  chains 
you  had  better  tell  doctors  the  truth  and  put  yourself  under 
the  charge  of  one  in  whom  you  have  confidence. ' ' 

"  Well,  curse  you  !"  said  Mr.  Jocelyn  savagely,  "  it  was 
through  one  of  your  damnable  fraternity  that  I  acquired  what 
you  are  pleased  to  call  my  chains,  and  now  you  come  croak 
ing  to  my  employers,  poisoning  their  minds  against  me." 

"  Oh,  as  to  poisoning,"  remarked  the  physician  sarcasti 
cally,  "  I'll  wager  a  thousand  dollars  that  you  have  absorbed 
enough  morphia  within  the  last  twenty-four  hours  to  kill  every 
one  in  this  office.  At  the  rate  you  are  going  on,  as  far  as  I  can 
judge  from  appearances,  you  will  soon  poison  yourself  out  of 
existence.  No  physician  ever  advised  the  destroying  vice 
you  are  practising,  and  no  physician  would  take  offence  at 
your  words  any  more  than  at  the  half-demented  ravings  of  g 
fever  patient.  You  are  in  a  very  critical  condition,  sir,  and 
unless  you  can  wake  up  to  the  truth  and  put  forth  more  will 
power  than  most  men  possess  you  will  soon  go  to  the  bad." 

"  I  sincerely  hope  you  will  take  this  experienced  phy 
sician's  advice,"  said  the  senior  member  of  the  firm  very 
coldly.  "At  any  rate  we  can  no  longer  permit  you  to 
jeopardize  our  interests  by  your  folly  and  weakness.  The 
cashier  will  settle  with  you,  and  our  relations  end  here  and 
now. ' ' 

"  You  will  bitterly  repent  of  this  injustice,"  Mr.  Jocelyn 
replied  haughtily.  ' '  You  are  discharging  a  man  of  un 
usual  business  capacity — one  whose  acquaintance  with  the 


WAXING  AND  WANING  MANHOOD.  281 

South  is  well  nigh  universal,  and  whose  combinations  were 
on  the  eve  of  securing  enormous  returns. ' ' 

"  We  will  forego  all  these  advantages.  Good-morning, 
sir.  Did  you  ever  see  such  effrontery  ?"  he  continued,  after 
Mr.  Jocelyn  had  departed  with  a  lofty  and  contemptuous  air. 

"  It's  not  effrontery — it's  opium,"  said  the  physician 
sadly.  "  You  should  see  the  abject  misery  of  the  poor 
wretch  after  the  effects  of  the  drug  have  subsided." 

' '  I  have  no  wish  to  see  him  again  under  any  aspect,  and 
heartily  thank  you  for  unmasking  him.  We  must  look  at 
once  into  our  affairs,  and  see  how  much  mischief  he  has 
done.  If  he  wants  the  aid  and  respect  of  decent  men,  let  him 
give  up  his  vile  practice." 

"  That's  easier  said  than  done,"  the  physician  replied 
"  Very  few  ever  give  it  up  who  have  gone  as  far  as  this 
man." 


282  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

A   SLAVE. 

r  I  ""HE  physician  was  right.  A  more  abject  and  pitiable 
A  spectacle  than  Mr.  Jocelyn  could  scarcely  have  been 
found  among  the  miserable  unfortunates  of  a  city  noted  for 
its  extremes  in  varied  condition.  Even  in  his  false  excite 
ment  he  was  dimly  aware  that  he  was  facing  a  dreadful 
emergency,  and,  following  an  instinctive  desire  for  solitude  so 
characteristic  of  those  in  his  condition,  he  took  a  room  in  an 
obscure  hotel  and  gave  himself  up  to  thoughts  that  grew  more 
and  more  painful  as  the  unnatural  dreams  inspired  by  opium 
shaped  themselves  gradually  into  accord  with  the  actualities 
of  his  life. 

For  a  month  or  two  past  he  had  been  swept  almost  un 
resistingly  down  the  darkening  and  deepening  current  of  his 
sin.  Whenever  he  made  some  feeble,  vacillating  effort  to  re 
duce  his  allowance  of  the  drug,  he  became  so  wretched, 
irritable,  and  unnatural  in  manner  that  his  family  were  full  of 
perplexed  wonder  and  solicitude.  To  hide  his  weakness 
from  his  wife  was  his  supreme  desire  ;  and  yet,  if  he  stopped 
— were  this  possible — the  whole  wretched  truth  would 
be  revealed.  Each  day  he  had  been  tormented  with  the 
feeling  that  something  must  be  done,  and  yet  nothing  had 
been  done.  He  had  only  sunk  deeper  and  deeper,  as  with 
the  resistless  force  of  gravitation. 

His  vague  hope,  his  baseless  dream  that  something  would 
occur  which  would  make  reform  easier  or  the  future  clearer, 


A  SLAVE,  283 

had  now  been  dissipated  utterly,  and  every  moment  with 
more  terrible  distinctness  revealed  to  him  the  truth  that  he 
had  lost  his  manhood.  The  vice  was  already  stamped  on 
his  face  and  manner,  so  that  an  experienced  eye  could  detect 
it  at  once  ;  soon  all  would  see  the  degrading  brand.  He, 
who  had  once  been  the  soul  of  honor  and  truth,  had  lied 
that  day  again  and  again,  and  the  thought  pierced  him  like 
a  sword. 

And  now,  after  his  useless  falsehoods,  what  should  he  do  ? 
He  was  no  longer  unacquainted  with  his  condition — few 
opium  victims  are,  at  his  advanced  stage  of  the  habit — and 
he  knew  well  how  long  and  terrible  would  be  the  ordeal  of  a 
radical  cure,  even  if  he  had  the  will-power  to  attempt  it.  He 
had,  of  late,  taken  pains  to  inform  himself  of  the  experience 
of  others  who  had  passed  down  the  same  dark,  slippery  path, 
and  when  he  tried  to  diminish  instead  of  increasing  his  doses 
of  morphia,  he  had  received  fearful  warnings  of  the  awful 
chasm  that  intervened  between  himself  and  safety. 

A  few  opium  consumers  can  go  on  for  years  in  comparative 
tranquillity  if  they  will  avoid  too  great  excess,  and  carefully 
increase  their  daily  allowance  so  as  not  to  exhibit  too  marked 
alternations  of  elation  and  depression.  Now  and  then,  per 
sons  of  peculiar  constitution  can  maintain  the  practice  a  long 
time  without  great  physical  or  moral  deterioration  ;  but  no 
habitue  can  stop  without  sufferings  prolonged  and  more  pain 
ful  than  can  be  described.  Sooner  or  later,  even  those  na 
tures  which  offer  the  strongest  resistance  to  the  ravages  of  the 
poison  succumb,  and  pass  hopelessly  to  the  same  destruction. 
Mr.  Jocelyn's  sanguine,  impulsive  temperament  had  little 
capacity  for  resistance  to  begin  with,  and  he  had  during  the 
last  year  used  the  drug  freely  and  constantly,  thus  making 
downward  advances  in  months  that  in  some  instances  require 
years  of  moderate  indulgence.  Moreover,  as  with  alcohol, 
many  natures  have  an  unusual  and  morbid  craving  for  opium 


284  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

after  once  acquiring  the  habit  of  its  use.  Their  appetite 
demands  it  with  an  imperiousness  which  will  not  be  denied, 
even  while  in  soul  they  recoil  and  loathe  the  bondage.  This 
was  especially  true  of  Mr.  Jocelyn.  The  vice  in  his  case  was 
wrecking  a  mind  and  heart  naturally  noble  and  abounding  in 
the  best  impulses.  He  was  conscious,  too,  of  this  demorali 
zation,  and  suffered  almost  as  greatly  as  would  a  true,  pure 
woman,  if,  by  some  fatal  necessity,  she  were  compelled  to 
live  a  life  of  crime. 

He  had  already  begun  to  shrink  from  the  companionship 
of  his  family.  The  play  and  voices  of  his  little  children 
jarred  his  shattered  nerves  almost  beyond  endurance  ;  and 
every  look  of  love  and  act  of  trust  became  a  stinging  irritant 
instead  of  the  grateful  incense  that  had  once  filled  his  home 
with  perfume.  In  bitter  self-condemnation  he  saw  that  he 
was  ceasing  to  be  a  protector  to  his  daughters,  and  that  un 
less  he  could  break  the  dark,  self-woven  spells  he  would 
drag  them  down  to  the  depths  of  poverty,  and  then  leave 
them  exposed  to  the  peculiar  temptations  which,  in  a  great 
city,  ever  assail  girls  so  young,  beautiful,  and  friendless.  Mil 
dred,  he  believed,  would  die  rather  than  sin  ;  but  he  often 
groaned  in  spirit  as  he  thought  of  Belle.  Their  considerate 
self-denial  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  after  his  return 
from  business,  and  their  looks  of  solicitude,  pierced  him  daily 
with  increasing  torture  ;  and  the  knowledge  that  he  added  to 
the  monotony  of  their  lives  and  the  irksomeness  of  their  pov 
erty  oppressed  him  with  a  dejection  that  was  relieved  only  by 
the  cause  of  all  his  troubles. 

But  the  thought  of  his  loving,  trusting,  patient  wife  was 
the  most  unendurable  of  all.  He  had  loved  her  from  the  first 
as  his  own  soul,  and  her  love  and  respect  were  absolutely 
essential  to  him,  and  yet  he  was  beginning  to  recoil  from  her 
with  a  strange  and  unnatural  force.  He  felt  that  he  had  no 
right  to  touch  her  while  she  remained  so  true  and  he  was  so 


A  SLAVE.  285 

false.  He  dreaded  her  loving  gaze  more  than  a  detective's 
cold,  searching  eye.  He  had  already  deceived  her  in  regard 
to  the  marks  of  the  hypodermic  needle,  assuring  her  that  they 
were  caused  by  a  slight  impurity  in  his  blood,  and  she  never 
questioned  anything  he  said.  He  often  lay  awake  through 
interminable  nights — the  drug  was  fast  losing  its  power  to 
produce  quiet  sleep — trembling  and  cold  with  apprehension 
of  the  hour  when  she  would  become  aware  that  her  husband 
was  no  longer  a  man,  but  the  most  degraded  of  slaves.  She 
might  learn  that  she  was  leaning,  not  even  on  a  frail  reed, 
but  on  a  poisoned  weapon  that  would  pierce  her  heart  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  would  rather  die  than  meet  that  hour 
when  into  her  gentle  eyes  would  come  the  horror  of  the  dis 
covery,  and  in  fact  the  oft-recurring  thought  of  it  all  had 
caused  more  pain  than  a  hundred  deaths. 

Could  he  go  home  now  and  reveal  his  degradation  ?  Great 
drops  of  cold  perspiration  drenched  him  at  the  bare  thought 
The  icy  waters,  the  ooze  and  mud  of  the  river  seemed  prefer 
able.  He  could  not  openly  continue  his  vice  in  the  presence 
of  his  family,  nor  could  he  conceal  it  much  longer,  and  the 
attempt  to  stop  the  drug,  even  gradually,  would  transform 
him  almost  into  a  demon  of  irritability  and  perhaps  violence, 
so  frightful  is  the  rebellion  of  the  physical  nature  against  the 
abstinence  essential  to  a  final  cure. 

At  last  he  matured  and  carried  out  the  following  plan  : 
Returning  to  the  firm  that  had  employed  him,  he  told  them 
of  his  purpose  to  go  South  among  his  old  acquaintances  and 
begin  life  anew,  and  of  his  belief  that  a  sea  voyage  and  change 
of  scene  would  enable  him  to  break  the  habit ;  and  he  so 
worked  upon  their  sympathies  that  they  promised  to  say 
nothing  of  his  weakness,  and  not  to  let  the  past  stand  in  his 
way  if  he  would  redeem  himself. 

Then  fortifying  his  nerves  carefully  with  morphia  he  went 
home  and  broached  the  project  to  his  wife  and  Mildred, 


286  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

plausibly  advancing  the  idea  that  the  change  might  restore  his 
failing  health.  To  his  relief  they  did  not  oppose  his  scheme, 
for  indeed  they  felt  that  something  must  be  done  speedily  to 
arrest  his  decline  ;  and  although  the  separation  would  be 
hard  for  the  wife  to  endure,  and  would  become  a  source  of 
increased  anxiety  for  a  time,  it  was  much  better  than  seeing 
him  fail  so  steadily  before  her  eyes.  His  plan  promised  im 
provement  in  their  fortunes  and  cure  of  the  mysterious  disease 
that  was  slowly  sapping  his  life.  Therefore  she  tearfully 
consented  that  he  should  go,  and  if  the  way  opened  favorably 
it  was  decided  that  the  family  should  follow  him. 

The  only  question  now  was  to  raise  the  money  required  ; 
and  to  accomplish  this  they  sold  the  household  effects  still 
in  storage,  and  Mildred,  without  a  word,  disposed  of  the 
most  of  her  jewelry  and  brought  the  proceeds  to  her  father  ; 
for  the  gold  and  gems  worn  in  days  that  accorded  with  their 
lustre  were  as  nothing  to  her  compared  with  her  father' s  life 
and  health. 

"  I  would  turn  my  blood  into  gold  if  I  could,  father," 
she  said,  with  swimming  eyes,  "if  it  would  only  make  you 
well  and  strong  as  you  once  were." 

The  man's  hand  so  trembled  that  he  could  scarcely  receive 
the  money.  When  by  himself  he  groaned,  ' '  Oh,  how  awful 
and  deep  will  be  the  curse  of  God  if  I  turn  this  money 
against  her  by  using  it  for  the  damnedest  poison  the  devil 
ever  brewed  !"  and  he  wrapped  it  up  separately  with  a 
shudder. 

A  few  days  later,  with  many  tears  and  clinging  embraces, 
they  parted  with  him,  his  wife  whispering  in  his  ear  at  the 
last  moment,  "  Martin,  my  every  breath  will  be  a  prayer  for 
your  safety  and  health. ' ' 

Under  the  influence  of  the  powerful  emotions  inspired  by 
this  last  interview  he  threw  his  hypodermic  syringe  and  mor 
phia  bottle  overboard  from  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  saying, 


A  SLAVE.  287 

with  a  desperate  resolution  which  only  an  opium  slave  could 
understand,  "  I'll  break  the  habit  for  one  week  if  I  die  for 
it, ' '  and  he  sailed  away  into  what  seemed  a  region  of  un 
imaginable  horrors,  dying  ten  thousand  deaths  in  the  in 
describable  anguish  of  his  mind  and  body.  The  winter  storm 
that  soon  overtook  the  ship  was  magnified  by  his  disordered 
intellect  until  its  uproar  was  appalling  in  the  last  degree. 
The  people  on  the  vessel  thought  him  demented,  and  for  a 
few  days  the  captain  kept  him  under  a  continuous  guard, 
and  considerately  suppressed  the  cause  of  his  behavior,  that 
was  soon  revealed  by  requests  for  opium  that  were  sometimes 
pitiful  pleadings  and  again  irritable  demands.  He  soon 
passed  into  a  condition  approaching  collapse,  vomiting  in 
cessantly,  and  insane  in  his  wild  restlessness.  Indeed  he 
might  have  died  had  not  the  captain,  in  much  doubt  and 
anxiety,  administered  doses  of  laudanum  which,  in  his  in 
experience,  were  appalling  in  their  amount. 

At  last,  more  dead  than  alive,  with  racking  pains,  shiver- 
ings  and  exhaustion  from  prolonged  insomnia,  he  was  taken 
ashore  in  a  Southern  city  and  a  physician  summoned,  who, 
with  a  promptness  characteristic  of  the  profession,  administered 
a  preparation  of  morphia,  and  the  old  fatal  spell  was  renewed 
at  once.  The  vitiated  system  that  for  days  had  been  largely 
deprived  of  its  support  seized  upon  the  drug  again  with  a 
craving  as  irresistible  as  the  downward  rush  of  a  torrent 
The  man  could  no  more  control  his  appetite  than  he  could 
an  Atlantic  tide.  It  overwhelmed  his  enervated  will  at  once, 
and  now  that  morphine  could  be  obtained  he  would  have  it 
at  any  and  every  cost.  Of  course  he  seemingly  improved 
rapidly  under  its  influence,  and  cunningly  disguising  his  con 
dition  from  the  physician,  soon  dismissed  him  and  resumed 
his  old  habits.  He  felt  that  it  was  impossible  to  endure  the 
horrors  of  total  abstinence,  and,  now  that  he  was  no  longer 
under  the  observation  of  his  family,  he  again  tried  to  satisfy  his 


f88  WITHOUT  A   HOME 

conscience  by  promising  himself  that  he  would  gradually  re 
duce  the  amount  used  until  he  could  discontinue  it  utterly — 
delusive  hope,  that  has  mocked  thousands  like  himself.  If 
he  could  have  gone  to  an  asylum  and  surrounded  his  infirm 
will  by  every  possible  safeguard,  he  might  have  been  carried 
through  the  inevitable  period  of  horrible  depression  ;  but  even 
then  the  habit  had  become  so  confirmed  that  his  chances 
would  have  been  problematical,  for  experience  sadly  proves 
that  confirmed  opium-consumers  are  ever  in  danger  of  a 
relapse. 


NEW  YORK'S  HUMANITY.  289 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

NEW  YORK'S  HUMANITY. 

MRS.  JOCELYN  drooped  in  her  husband's  absence,  for 
every  year  had  increased  her  sense  of  dependence.  She- 
felt  somewhat  like  one  who  is  drifting  on  a  wreck.  If  the 
sea  would  only  remain  calm,  all  might  be  well  ;  but  the  sea 
never  is  at  rest  very  long,  and  if  storms,  dangers,  and  emer 
gencies  occurred  what  would  she  do  ? 

Each  day  that  passed  without  word  from  her  husband  grew 
longer,  and  when  at  last  a  letter  came  it  was  vague  and  un 
satisfactory.  He  hoped  he  was  better  ;  he  hoped  to  find  a 
foothold  ;  and  then  came  again  several  days  of  silence  which 
were  almost  as  oppressive  to  Mildred  as  to  herself. 

Meanwhile  their  funds  were  failing  fast,  and  they  both  felt 
that  they  ought  not  to  sell  anything  else  for  mere  living  ex 
penses.  More  critical  emergencies  might  arise  and  find  them 
destitute.  If  Mr.  Jocelyn  should  become  seriously  ill  in  the 
South,  they  must  be  in  a  position  to  have  him  cared  for  and 
brought  home.  Mildred  with  extreme  reluctance  was  com 
pelled  to  face  the  necessity  of  giving  up  her  studies  so  that 
she  might  earn  something  at  once.  She  had  about  decided 
to  reveal  her  troubles  to  Miss  Wetheridge,  when  a  hasty  note 
from  her  friend  swept  away  all  immediate  chance  of  aid  in 
that  direction.  ' '  The  gentleman  to  whom  I  was  soon  to  be 
married, ' '  she  wrote,  ' '  has  not  been  strong  for  a  year  past, 
and  a  few  days  since  he  was  taken  with  a  hemorrhage  from 
his  lungs.  His  physician  ordered  him  to  go  immediately  to 


2go  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

Nassau.  In  accordance  with  our  mutual  wishes  we  were 
married  quietly  in  the  presence  of  a  few  relatives,  and  by 
the  time  this  note  reaches  you  we  shall  be  on  our  way  to 
the  South.  My  heart  is  burdened  with  anxiety,  and  my 
hourly  prayer  is  that  God  will  spare  the  life  of  one  so  dear  to 
me.  I  wish  I  could  see  you  before  I  sail,  but  it  is  impossi 
ble.  I  have  had  to  leave  almost  everything  undone.  Write 
me  often." 

This  note  threw  Mildred  on  her  own  resources.  She  felt 
that  Mr.  Wentworth  could  do  little  for  her  beyond  certifying 
to  her  character,  for  he  was  the  pastor  of  a  congregation  of 
which  a  large  proportion  were  as  poor  as  herself.  There  was 
naught  to  do  but  go  to  work  like  the  others  in  uncomplain 
ing  silence  and  earn  her  bread. 

One  evening  she  learned  from  Belle  that  the  increased 
trade  incident  to  the  approaching  holiday  season  had  ren 
dered  more  help  necessary,  and  that  one  large  shop  on  Sixth 
Avenue  had  already  made  known  this  need.  When  the 
doors  opened  the  following  morning,  Mildred  was  among 
the  crowd  of  applicants,  and  her  appearance  was  so  much  in 
her  favor  that  she  was  engaged  at  once  on  a  salary  of  six  dol 
lars  a  week.  Only  immediate  necessity  could  have  induced 
her  to  take  this  step,  for  she  justly  doubted  her  ability  to  en 
dure  the  strain  of  standing  continuously.  The  shop,  how 
ever,  was  full  of  girls  as  frail-looking  as  herself,  and  it  was 
the  only  certainty  of  support  within  her  reach.  Her  mother 
cried  bitterly  over  the  step,  and  she,  also,  could  not  hide  a 
few  tears,  brave  as  she  tried  to  be  ;  but  she  said  resolutely, 
"  I'm  no  better  than  hundreds  of  others,  and  if  they  can 
endure  it  I  can  and  will,  for  a  while  at  least. ' ' 

The  first  day  was  one  that  she  never  forgot.  The  bright 
sun  and  clear,  bracing  atmosphere  brought  out  crowds  of 
shoppers,  but  the  air  of  the  store  soon  became  vitiated,  hot, 
and  lifeless.  In  this  close,  stifling  place  she  was  compelled 


NEW  YORK'S  HUMANITY.  2gi 

to  stand,  elbowed  by  other  girls  who  were  strangers  to  her, 
and  too  busy  or  too  indifferent  to  aid  materially  her  in 
experienced  efforts  to  learn  her  duties.  She  made  blunders, 
for  which  she  was  scolded  ;  she  grew  bewildered  and  faint, 
and  when  the  few  moments  of  nooning  came  she  could  not 
eat  the  lunch  her  mother  had  prepared.  If  she  could  only 
have  had  a  cup  of  strong  coffee  she  might  have  got  through 
the  day ;  but  her  employers  were  much  too  thrifty  to  fur 
nish  such  a  luxury,  and  she  was  too  tired,  and  the  time 
allotted  her  much  too  brief  to  permit  its  quest.  Therefore 
she  tried  to  rest  a  little  from  the  intolerable  fatigue  and  pain 
of  standing,  and  to  collect  her  thoughts. 

The  afternoon  crush  of  customers  was  greater  even  than 
that  which  had  crowded  the  counters  in  the  morning,  and  she 
grew  more  and  more  bewildered  under  the  confused  fire  of 
questions  .and  orders.  If  any  one  had  had  the  time  or  heart  to 
observe,  there  would  have  been  seen  in  her  eyes  the  pathetic, 
fearful  look  of  some  timid  creature  of  the  woods  when  harried 
and  driven  to  bay  by  hounds. 

Suddenly  everything  grew  black  before  her  eyes  ;  the  piled- 
up  goods,  the  chattering  throng,  faded,  and  she  sank  to  the 
floor — there  was  no  room  for  her  to  fall. 

When  she  revived  she  found  that  she  had  been  carried  to 
the  cloak-room,  in  which  the  girls  ate  their  lunch,  and  that  a 
woman  was  kneeling  beside  her  applying  restoratives.  In  a 
few  moments  one  of  the  managers  looked  in  and  asked,  in 
an  off-hand  way,  ' '  How  is  she  getting  on  ?' ' 

With  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  Mildred  sat  up,  and 
pleaded,  ' '  Indeed,  sir,  I'  m  better.  It  was  all  so  strange — 
the  air  was  close.  I  beg  of  you  not  to  discharge  me.  I  will 
learn  soon." 

"  Oh,  don't  be  so  worried,"  the  man  replied  good- 
naturedly.  "  It's  nothing  new  to  have  a  girl  faint  on  the 
first  day.  You'll  get  used  to  it  by  and  by  like  the  rest 


*92  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Will  you  be  well  enough  to  walk  home,  or  shall  I  have  a 
carriage  ordered  ?' ' 

"  Please  don't  get  a  carriage.  It  would  frighten  mamma 
terribly,  and  she  would  not  let  me  come  back,  and  I  must 
come,  for  we  need  every  penny  I  can  earn. ' ' 

"  Well,  now,  that's  sensible,  and  you  save  the  carriage 
hire  also.  You' re  a  fine-looking,  plucky  girl,  and  I' 11  give 
you  a  place  at  the  lace  counter,  near  the  door,  where  the  air 
is  better  and  the  work  lighter  (and  where  her  pretty  face  will 
do  us  no  harm, ' '  he  added  mentally). 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir,  and  I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I 
thank  you. ' ' 

"  All  right,  you'll  get  into  training  and  do  as  well  as  the 
best,  so  don' t  be  discouraged, ' '  and  the  man  had  the  grace 
or  business  thrift — probably  a  blending  of  both — to  send  her 
a  cup  of  coffee. 

She  was  then  left  to  rest,  and  go  home  when  she  felt  like  it 
As  early  as  she  dared  without  exciting  her  mother' s  suspicions, 
she  crept  away,  almost  as  the  wounded  slowly  and  painfully 
leave  a  field  of  battle.  Her  temples  still  throbbed  ;  in  all  her 
body  there  was  a  slight  muscular  tremor,  or  beating  sensa 
tion,  and  her  step  faltered  from  weakness.  To  her  delicate 
organization,  already  reduced  by  anxiety,  sedentary  life,  and 
prolonged  mental  effort,  the  strain  and  nervous  shock  of  that 
day's  experiences  had  been  severe  indeed. 

To  hide  the  truth  from  her  despondent  mother  was  now 
her  chief  hope  and  aim.  Her  fatigue  she  would  not  attempt 
to  disguise,  for  that  would  be  unnatural.  It  was  with  diffi 
culty  she  climbed  the  one  flight  of  stairs  that  led  to  their 
room,  but  her  wan  face  was  smiling  as  she  pushed  open  the 
door  and  kissed  her  mother  in  greeting.  Then  throwing  her 
self  on  the  lounge  she  cried  gayly,  "  Come,  little  mother, 
give  me  an  old  maid's  panacea  for  every  ill  of  life — a  cup  of 
strong  tea." 


NEW  YORK'S  HUMANITY.  293 

"  Millie/'  cried  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  bending  over  her  with  moist 
eyes.  "  you  look  pale  and  gone-like — " 

"  Oh  no,  mamma,  I'm  here — a  good  hundred  and  ten 
pounds  of  me,  more  or  less. ' ' 

"  But  how  did  you  get  through  the  day  ?" 

"  You  will  hardly  believe  it,"  was  the  reassuring  reply  ; 
"  I've  been  promoted  already  from  work  that  was  hard  and 
coarse  to  the  lace  counter,  which  is  near  the  door,  where  one 
can  breathe  a  little  pure  air.  If  the  goods  were  as  second 
hand  as  the  air  they  would  not  have  a  customer.  But, 
come,  mamma  dear,  I'm  too  tired  to  talk,  and  would  rather 
eat,  and  especially  drink.  These  surely  are  good  symptoms. ' ' 

"  Millie,  you  are  a  soldier,  as  we  used  to  say  during  the 
war, ' '  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  hastening  the  preparations  for  sup 
per  ;  "  but  you  cannot  deceive  a  mother's  eyes.  You  are 
more  exhausted  than  you  even  realize  yourself.  Oh,  I  do 
wish  there  was  some  other  way.  I'd  give  all  the  world  if  I 
had  Mrs.  Wheaton's  stout  red  arms,  for  I'd  rather  wash  all 
day  and  half  the  night  than  see  you  and  Belle  so  burdened 
early  in  life. ' ' 

"  I  wouldn't  have  my  beautiful  mamma  changed  even  by 
one  gray  hair,"  was  the  very  natural  response. 

Belle  nearly  rendered  futile  all  of  Mildred's  efforts  to  hide 
the  worst  from  her  mother  ;  for,  after  her  duties  were  over, 
she  went  eagerly  to  the  shop  where  she  expected  to  find  her 
sister.  Having  learned  that  Miss  Jocelyn  had  fainted  and 
had  gone  home  some  time  in  the  afternoon,  she  sped  almost 
breathlessly  after  her,  and  burst  into  the  room  with  the  words, 
"Millie!  Millie!" 

Fortunately  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  busy  over  the  stove  at  the 
moment  and  did  not  see  Mildred's  strong  cautionary  gesture  • 
but  Belle's  perceptions  were  almost  instantaneous,  and  with 
one  significant  glance  of  her  dark  eyes  she  entered  into  th» 
loving  conspiracy. 


294  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  What  is  it,  Belle?"  was  Mrs.  Jocelyn's  anxious  query. 

"I'm  wild  to  know  how  Millie  has  got  on  the  first  day,  and 
whether  she  has  a  big  fight  on  her  hands  as  I  had.  If  she  has, 
I  declare  war,  too,  against  all  the  powers  and  principalities — 
not  of  the  air,  for  there  wasn't  a  breath  of  it  in  our  store  to 
day.  We've  had  a  crush,  and  I'm  half  dead  from  trying  to 
do  two  days'  work  in  one.  Ten  minutes  for  lunch.  Scores  of 
cross  customers  all  wanting  to  be  waited  on  at  once,  and  the 
floor-walkers  flying  around  like  hens  bereft  of  heads,  which, 
after  all,  are  never  of  much  use  to  either.  In  spite  of  all, 
here  we  are,  mamma,  ready  for  a  cup  of  your  good  tea  and 
other  fixin's.  Now,  Millie,  it's  your  turn.  I've  let  off 
enough  steam  to  be  safe  till  after  supper.  Have  you  made 
cruel  enemies  to-day,  from  whom  you  desire  my  protection  ?' ' 

"No,  Belle,"  said  Mildred,  laughing;  "  I  haven' t  your 
force  and  brilliancy,  and  have  made  but  a  humdrum  begin 
ning.  I  was  so  stupid  at  one  counter  that  they  transferred 
me  to  another,  and  I'm  glad  of  it,  for  laces  are  pretty,  and 
taking  care  of  them  wouldn'  t  seem  like  drudgery  at  all.  Best 
of  all,  it's  near  the  door,  and  every  customer  will  give  me  a 
sustaining  breath. ' ' 

"  Millie  is  standing  it  capitally  for  a  beginner,"  Belle  re 
marked,  with  the  air  of  a  veteran,  as  Mildred  eagerly  drank 
her  cup  of  tea  and  asked  for  more.  ' '  I  was  so  tired  the  first 
night  that  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  scarcely  swallow  a  mouth 
ful." 

Thus  they  carried  out  the  little  ruse,  careful  not  to  exag 
gerate,  for  Mrs.  Jocelyn's  intuitions  were  quick. 

As  it  was  she  looked  at  her  child  with  many  misgivings, 
but  she  tried  for  their  sakes  to  be  cheerful,  and  praised  the 
courage  and  spirit  of  both  the  girls,  assuring  them  that  they 
showed  their  true  Southern  blood,  and  that  they  reminded  her 
of  their  father  when,  during  his  brief  visits,  he  talked  over  the 
long,  hard  campaigns. 


NEW  YORK'S  HUMANITY.  295 

At  last  they  were  in  the  privacy  of  their  own  room,  and 
Mildred,  as  if  she  were  the  weaker  and  younger,  buried  her 
face  on  her  sister's  shoulder  and  sobbed  despairingly,  "  Oh, 
Belle,  you  are  the  stronger.  I  fear  I  can' t  stand  it  at  all. 
I've  suffered  more  to-day  than  in  all  my  life,  and  my  feet 
and  back  still  ache — oh,  I  can' t  tell  you. ' ' 

The  child  soothed  and  comforted  her,  and  said  she  had 
suffered  just  the  same  at  first,  and  often  still  she  felt  that  if 
she  could  not  sit  down  for  a  few  moments  she  would  drop 
down  ;  "  but  there,  Millie,"  she  concluded,  with  the  best 
philosophy  the  case  admitted  of,  "  you  get  used  to  it  grad 
ually — you  can  get  used  to  anything. ' ' 

"  I  don't  believe  lean,"  was  the  dejected  reply,  "and 
yet  I  must,  if  we  would  have  shelter  and  bread.  Oh  that  we 
might  hear  some  good  news  from  papa  !  Why  don' t  he  write 
oftener  ?  I  fear  it  is  because  he  has  nothing  cheering  to  tell 
us." 

The  next  morning,  in  spite  of  all  effort,  Mildred  was  too 
ill  and  lame  to  rise,  but  she  instructed  Belle  to  assure  her 
employer  that  she  would  come  the  following  day. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  tried  hard  to  persuade  her  not  to  go  back  at 
all,  and  at  last  Mildred  grew  a  little  stern  and  said  emphat 
ically,  "  Please  say  no  more,  mamma.  We  can  afford  none 
of  this  weak  nonsense.  I  must  earn  my  bread,  as  do  other 
girls,  and  have  no  time  to  lose.'' 

The  following  day,  fortunately,  was  so  stormy  that  cus 
tomers  were  scattering,  and  Mildred  had  a  chance  to  gain 
an  idea  of  her  duties  and  to  rest  a  little  from  time  to  time, 
for  out  of  consideration  of  the  facts  that  she  had  been  ill  and 
was  a  beginner,  she  was  permitted  to  sit  down  occasionally. 
She  was  so  attractive  in  appearance,  and  had  brought  such 
an  excellent  certificate  of  character,  that  the  proprietors  were 
inclined  to  be  lenient,  and  smooth  a  little  the  harsh  and 
thorny  path  of  a  beginner. 


«96  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

And  so  the  weary  days  dragged  on,  and  she  slowly  ac 
quired  the  power  to  stand  as  did  the  others.  They  were 
days,  however,  which  ended  in  a  close  approach  to  agony, 
from  which  the  nights  brought  but  slight  and  temporary 
relief,  for  so  great  was  the  pain  in  her  feet  and  back  that  she 
would  moan  even  in  her  sleep.  Her  sufferings  were  scarcely 
less  than  at  first,  but,  as  Belle  said,  she  was  "  getting  used  " 
to  them. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  many  would  persist  in  living 
in  spite  of  all  the  tortures  of  the  Inquisition.  I  wonder  if 
the  old-time  inquisitors  and  their ' '  familiars' '  were  ingenious 
enough  to  compel  delicate  women  to  stand  and  talk  all  day, 
and  sometimes  part  of  the  night  ? 

In  very  truth,  the  poor  girl  was  earning  her  bread  by  tor 
ture,  and  she  soon  found  that  she  had  many  companions  in 
suffering  who,  with  woman's  capacity  for  the  patient  endur 
ance  of  pain,  made  the  best  of  their  lot,  often  trying  to  for 
get  themselves  in  jests,  laughter,  and  gossip,  planning,  mean 
while,  in  odd  moments,  for  some  snatch  at  the  few  pleasures 
that  their  brief  evenings  permitted — pleasures,  too  often,  in 
which  Mildred  could  or  would  take  no  part.  While  her 
gentleness  and  courtesy  to  all  gave  no  cause  for  hostility,  her 
air  of  quiet  aloofness  and  her  recognized  superiority  prevented 
her  from  becoming  a  favorite,  nor  did  the  many  admiring 
looks  and  even  open  advances  that  she  received  from  the 
young  men  in  the  store,  and  occasionally  from  customers, 
add  to  her  popularity.  The  male  clerks  soon  found,  how 
ever,  that  beyond  the  line  warranted  by  their  mutual  duties 
she  was  utterly  unapproachable,  and  not  a  few  of  them 
united  in  the  view  held  by  the  girls,  that  she  was  "  stuck 
up"  ;  but  since  she  was  not  in  the  least  above  her  business, 
no  one  could  complain  openly. 

As  one  long,  exceedingly  busy  and  weary  day  was  drawing 
to  a  close,  however,  she  received  a  sharp  reprimand.  A 


NEW  YORK'S  HUMANITY.  297 

gentleman  had  agreed  to  meet  his  wife  at  the  shop  as  he 
came  up  town,  in  order  that  they  might  together  make  pro 
vision  for  Christmas.  The  lady  having  nearly  accomplished 
her  round,  and  having  proved  herself  a  liberal  purchaser,  she 
was  naturally  accompanied  toward  the  door  by  a  very 
amiable  foreman,  who  was  profuse  in  his  thanks.  Suddenly 
it  occurred  to  her  that  she  would  look  at  the  laces,  and  she 
approached  Mildred,  who,  in  a  momentary  respite,  was 
leaning  back  against  the  shelves  with  closed  eyes,  weary  be 
yond  all  words  of  description. 

' '  Will  you  please  wake  that  young  woman  up, ' '  the  lady 
remarked,  a  little  sharply. 

This  the  foreman  did,  in  a  way  that  brought  what  little 
blood  the  poor  girl  had  left  into  her  face.  The  shopper  sat 
down  on  the  plush  seat  before  the  counter,  and  was  soon 
absorbed  in  the  enticing  wares,  while  her  husband  stood  be 
side  her  and  stole  sidelong  glances  at  the  weary  but  beautiful 
face  of  the  saleswoman. 

"  Jupiter  Ammon,"  he  soliloquized  mentally,  "but  she 
is  pretty  !  If  that  flush  would  only  last,  she'd  be  beautiful  ; 
but  she's  too  pale  and  fagged  for  that — out  to  a  ball  last  night, 
I  imagine.  She  don't  even  notice  that  a  man's  admiring  her 
— proof,  indeed,  that  she  must  have  danced  till  near  morning, 
if  not  worse.  What  lives  these  girls  lead,  if  half  the  stories 
are  true  !  I'd  like  to  see  that  one  rested,  fresh,  and  becom 
ingly  dressed.  She'd  make  a  sensation  in  a  Fifth  Avenue 
drawing-room  if  she  had  the  sense  to  keep  her  mouth  shut, 
and  not  show  her  ignorance  and  under-breeding. ' ' 

But  he  was  growing  impatient,  and  at  last  said,  "  Oh, 
come,  my  dear,  you've  bought  enough  to  break  me  already. 
We'  11  be  late  for  dinner. ' ' 

The  lady  rose  reluctantly,  and  remarked,  ' '  Well,  I  think 
I'll  come  and  look  at  these  another  day,"  and  they  were 
bowed  out  of  the  door. 


298  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

'You  must  be  more  alert,"  said  the  foreman,  impera 
tively,  to  Mildred.  "  These  people  are  among  the  best  and 
wealthiest  in  town." 

"I'll  try,"  was  the  meek  answer. 

The  gentleman  had  hardly  reached  the  sidewalk,  however, 
before  all  his  chivalry  and  indignation  were  aroused.  Under 
the  press  of  Christmas  times  a  drayman  had  overloaded  his 
cart,  and  the  horse  was  protesting  in  his  dumb  way  by  refus 
ing  to  budge  an  inch  ;  meanwhile  the  owner  proved  himself 
scarcely  equal  to  the  animal  he  drove  by  furious  blows  and 
curses,  which  were  made  all  the  more  reckless  by  his  recent 
indulgence  in  liquor. 

The  poor  beast  soon  found  many  champions,  and  fore 
most  among  them  was  the  critic  of  the  weary  shop-girl,  who 
had  suffered  more  that  day  than  the  horse  was  capable  of 
suffering  in  his  lifetime.  The  distinguished  citizen,  justly 
irate,  I  grant,  sent  his  wife  home  in  their  carriage,  and  declared 
that  he  would  neither  eat  nor  sleep  until  he  had  seen  the 
brute — the  drayman,  not  the  horse — arrested  and  locked  up, 
and  he  kept  his  word. 

Much  later,  the  wronged  and  tortured  human  creature  of 
whom  he  had  surmised  evil,  and  on  whom  he  had  bestowed 
at  best  only  a  little  cynical  admiration,  crept  home  with  steps 
that  faltered,  burdened  with  a  heaviness  of  heart  and  a  wea 
riness  of  body  which  could  be  measured  only  by  the  pitiful 
eye  of  Him  who  carries  the  world's  sins  and  sorrows. 

The  rescued  horse  munched  his  oats  in  stolid  tranquillity  ; 
the  woman  raised  to  heaven  her  eyes,  beneath  which  were 
dark,  dark  lines,  and  murmured,  ' '  O  God,  how  long  ?' ' 


THE  SEA  TITUDES  OF  OPIUM.  299 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  BEATITUDES  OF  OPIUM. 

AT  least  once  each  week  Roger  took  Belle  to  some  even 
ing  entertainment,  selecting  places  that,  while  inno 
cent,  were  in  keeping  with  their  years — full  of  color,  life,  and 
interest.  The  young  girl  improved  at  once,  as  the  result  of 
this  moderate  gratification  of  a  craving  that  was  as  proper  as  it 
was  natural.  The  sense  of  being  restricted  and  arbitrarily 
shut  away  from  the  pleasures  belonging  to  her  youth  no 
longer  worked  like  a  subtle  and  evil  ferment  in  her  mind. 
The  repressed  and  unhappy  are  in  tenfold  more  danger  from 
temptation  than  those  who  feel  they  are  having  their  share  of 
life's  good.  The  stream  that  cannot  flow  in  the  sunshine 
seeks  a  subterranean  channel,  and  in  like  manner  when  cir 
cumstances,  or  the  inconsiderate  will  of  others,  impose  un 
relenting  restraint  upon  the  exuberant  spirit  of  youth,  it 
usually  finds  some  hidden  outlet  which  cannot  bear  the  light 
Until  Roger  came,  circumstances  had  restricted  Belle  within 
such  a  narrow  and  colorless  life,  and  she  was  growing  very 
discontented  with  her  lot — a  dangerous  tendency.  Through 
all  this  long  ordeal  her  mother  and  Mildred  had  retained  her 
sympathy,  for  she  knew  that  they  were  not  to  blame,  and 
that  they  were  right  in  protesting  against  all  acquaintances 
and  amusements  which  involved  danger.  Now  that  she  and 
Roger  occasionally  had  a  merry  time  together,  and  a  confi 
dential  chat  on  Sunday,  she  accepted  her  long  days  of  toil 
without  complaint. 


300  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

The  wholesome  and  tonic  influence  of  a  few  hours  of  pos 
itive  and  unalloyed  enjoyment  in  a  busy  or  burdened  life  is 
properly  estimated  by  a  very  few.  Multitudes  would  preach 
better,  live  better,  do  more  work  and  die  much  later,  could 
they  find  some  innocent  recreation  to  which  they  could  often 
give  themselves  up  with  something  of  the  whole-hearted 
abandon  of  a  child. 

Belle  now  had  pleasures  to  look  forward  to,  or  some  bright 
scene  to  live  over  again,  and,  were  it  not  for  her  sympathy 
for  her  sister  and  anxiety  on  her  father's  behalf,  her  brow 
would  have  been  serene. 

To  Mildred,  however,  the  days  were  growing  darker  and 
the  way  more  thorny.  She  was  gaining  only  in  the  power  of 
endurance  ;  she  was  unconsciously  developing  the  trait  that 
bade  fair  to  become  the  key-note  of  her  life — fidelity.  It 
was  her  absolute  loyalty  to  her  long-cherished  love  that  pre 
vented  her  from  accepting  invitations  to  go  with  Belle  and 
Roger.  Through  all  disguises  she  saw  that  the  latter  was  a 
lover  and  not  a  friend,  and  while  she  had  learned  to  respect 
him  much  more,  she  shrank  from  him  none  the  less.  True, 
therefore,  to  her  womanly  instincts,  and  pathetically  patient 
with  a  life  full  of  pain  and  weariness,  she  faltered  on  toward 
a  future  that  seemed  to  promise  less  and  less.  Roger  did 
not  need  to  be  told  by  Belle  of  Mildred's  burdened  life, 
although  the  young  girl  did  speak  of  it  often  with  sad  and 
indignant  emphasis.  "  Beautiful  Millie,  who  would  grace 
the  finest  house  in  the  city,"  she  said,  "  is  as  much  out  of 
place  in  this  life  as  if  a  gazelle  were  made  to  do  the  work  of 
a  cart-horse.  It's  just  killing  her." 

"  It's  not  the  work  that's  harming  her  so  much  as  the 
accursed  brutality  which  permits  more  cruelty  to  white  women 
than  was  ever  inflicted  on  black  slaves.  If  the  shopkeepers 
owned  these  girls  who  serve  their  counters  they  would  pro 
vide  them  seats  instantly,  on  the  same  principle  that  some  of 


THE  BEA  TITUDES  OF  OPIUM.  3O1 

your  Southern  people,  wno  had  no  humanity,  cared  well  for 
their  human  property  ;  but  these  fellows  know  that  when  a 
girl  breaks  down  they  can  take  their  pick  from  twenty  appli 
cants  the  next  morning.  If  I  could  scalp  a  few  of  these 
woman-murderers,  I'd  sleep  better  to-night.  Oh,  Belle, 
Belle,  if  you  knew  how  it  hurts  me  to  see  such  advantage 
taken  of  Miss  Mildred  !  I  sometimes  walk  the  streets  for 
hours  chafing  and  raging  about  it,  and  yet  any  expression  of 
my  sympathy  would  only  add  to  her  distress.  You  must 
never  speak  to  her  of  me,  Belle,  except  in  a  casual  way,  when 
you  cannot  help  it,  for  only  as  I  keep  aloof,  even  from  her 
thoughts,  can  she  tolerate  me  at  all. ' ' 

"  Be  patient,  Roger.  Millie  is  unlike  many  girls,  and 
wants  only  one  lover.  Now  I'd  like  half  a  dozen,  more  or 
less,  generally  more.  She's  too  infatuated  with  that  weak 
ling,  Vinton  Arnold,  to  care  for  any  one  else.  And  to  think 
he  hasn't  sent  her  one  reassuring  word  since  last  summer  1 
There  isn't  enough  of  him  to  cast  a  shadow.  Catch  me 
moping  after  such  a  dim  outline  of  a  man  !  But  it's  just  like 
Millie.  If  he'd  only  vanish  into  thin  air  she  might  give 
him  up,  and  perhaps  he  has." 

"  No,  he's  in  Europe,  and  has  been  there  ever  since  he 
left  the  hotel  at  Forestville.  I  learned  the  fact  the  other  day. 
He's  living  in  luxury  and  idleness,  while  the  girl  who  loves 
him  is  earning  her  bread  in  a  way  that's  infernal  in  its 
cruelty. ' ' 

"  How  did  you  find  that  out  ?"  Belle  asked  quickly. 

"  It  was  in  no  mean  or  underhand  way,  and  no  knowl 
edge  of  my  inquiries  will  ever  reach  him.  I  thought  she'd 
like  to  know,  however,  and  you  can  tell  her,  but  give  her  no 
hint  of  the  source  of  your  information. ' ' 

"Who  told  you?"  was  Mildred's  prompt  response  to 
Belle's  news  that  night,  while  a  sudden  bloom  in  her  pale 
face  showed  how  deeply  the  tidings  interested  her. 


302  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  No  matter  how  I  learned  the  fact,"  replied  Belle  a  little 
bsusquely  ;  "  it's  true.  He  wouldn't  lift  his  little  finger  to 
keep  you  from  starving." 

"  You  wrong  him,"  cried  Mildred  passionately  ;  "  and  I 
don't  wish  you  ever  to  speak  of  him  again.  I  know  who 
told  you  :  it  was  Roger  Atwood,  and  I  wish  he  would  leave 
me  and  my  affairs  alone.  He  is  singularly  stupid  and  ill- 
bred  to  meddle  in  such  a  matter." 

"  He  has  not  meddled,"  retorted  Belle  indignantly,  and 
wholly  off  her  guard  ;  "  he  thought  you  might  like  to  know 
the  truth,  and  he  learned  it  in  a  way  that  left  no  trace. 
When  you  are  in  the  streets  you  are  always  looking  for  Mr. 
Arnold  (it's  a  pity  he  wasn't  doing  a  little  looking,  too), 
and  now  your  mind  can  be  at  ease.  He  isn't  sick  or  dead  ; 
he's  entirely  safe  and  having  a  good  time,  faring  sumptuously 
every  day,  while  you  are  dying  by  inches  for  little  more  than 
bread  and  a  nook  in  a  tenement-house.  I  don't  care  what 
you  say,  I  detest  such  a  man. ' ' 

Mildred's  overtaxed  nerves  gave  way  at  Belle's  harsh  and 
prosaic  words,  and  throwing  herself  on  her  couch  she  sobbed 
so  bitterly  that  the  inconsiderate  child,  in  deep  compunc 
tion,  coaxed  and  pleaded  with  her  not  "  to  take  it  so  hard," 
and  ended  by  crying  in  sympathy,  almost  as  heartily  as  Mil 
dred  herself.  The  latter  was  completely  disarmed  of  her 
anger  by  Belle's  feeling  ;  and,  indeed,  as  she  came  to  think 
it  all  over,  it  did  not  seem  so  like  desertion  on  Arnold's  part, 
since  he  might  have  written  from  Europe  and  the  letter  have 
failed  to  reach  her.  That  he  should  have  been  in  New  York 
all  this  time  and  have  made  no  effort  to  find  her  would  seem 
heartless  indeed.  At  any  rate,  with  her  rare  fidelity  and 
faith,  she  would  believe  nothing  against  him  without  absolute 
proof 

But  of  Roger  Atwood  she  thought  resentfully,  "  He 
reads  my  very  thoughts.  He  has  seen  me  looking:  for  Vin- 


THE  BE  A  TITUDES  OF  OPIUM.  3°3 

ton  half-unconsciously  when  in  the  streets.  He  keeps  him 
self  in  the  background,  and  no  doubt  thinks  himself  very 
distant  and  considerate  ;  but  I  can  scarcely  turn  in  any  direc 
tion  but  I  see  his  shadow,  or  meet  with  some  indication  that 
he  is  watching  and  waiting." 

There  was  more  truth  in  her  words  than  she  half  suspected. 
His  duties  required  that  he  should  be  down  town  very  early 
in  the  morning,  but  he  was  usually  released  in  the  afternoon, 
for  his  uncle  tacitly  humored  his  desire  for  study.  Scarcely 
an  evening  elapsed  that  the  young  man  did  not  pass  and  re- 
pass  the  shop  in  which  Mildred  was  employed,  for  through 
the  lighted  windows  he  could  see  the  object  of  his  thoughts 
unobserved,  and  not  infrequently  he  followed  her  as  she 
wearily  returned  homeward,  and  his  heart  ached  with  the  im 
potent  desire  to  lighten  the  burdens  of  her  life.  He  feared 
that  she  would  never  accept  of  his  watchful  care  or  thank 
him  for  it ;  but  love  is  its  own  reward,  and  impels  to  action 
that  does  not  well  stand  the  test  of  the  world's  prosaic  judg 
ment.  Beyond  this  brief  and  furtive  gratification  of  his  pas 
sion,  he  lost  no  time  in  sighing  or  sentiment,  but  bent  his 
mind  to  his  tasks  with  such  well-directed  and  persistent  en 
ergy  that  the  commission  merchant  occasionally  nodded  sig 
nificantly  ;  for,  in  accordance  with  his  habit,  he  took  counsel 
of  no  one  except  himself. 

It  was  Roger's  hope  that,  eventually,  Mildred,  for  her  own 
sake,  could  be  persuaded  to  accompany  Belle  on  some  of 
their  pursuits  of  evening  recreation,  and  he  suggested  that 
the  latter  should  persistently  try  to  induce  her  to  go,  say 
ing  that  her  health  and  success  in  the  future  required 
more  change  and  cheerfulness  ;  but  Mildred  always  said 
"  No,"  with  a  quiet  emphasis  which  admitted  of  no  argu 
ment 

In  truth,  when  evening  came  she  was  too  weary  to  go  with 
him  or  with  any  one  else,  and  the  first  Sunday  after  her 


304  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

duties  at  the  shop  began  she  could  not  be  present  at  the 
chapel  and  meet  her  class.* 

Mr.  Wentworth  called,  fearing  she  was  ill.  She  explained 
in  part,  and  he  was  quick  to  understand.  His  brow  dark 
ened  in  such  a  frown  that  the  poor  girl  grew  frightened,  and 
began  :  "  Indeed,  Mr.  Wentworth,  do  not  judge  me  harshly, 
or  think  that  I  let  a  trifle  keep  me — " 

Then  he  awakened  to  her  misapprehension,  and  coming 
directly  to  her  side  he  took  her  hand,  with  a  face  so  kind, 
so  full  of  deep,  strong  sympathy,  that  her  eyes  filled  at  once. 

"  My  poor  child,"  he  said,  "  could  you  imagine  I  was 
frowning  at  you  ? — brave  little  soldier  that  you  are,  braver 
and  stronger  in  your  way  and  place  than  I  in  mine.  God 
bless  you,  no.  I  felt  savage  to  think  that  in  this  nineteenth 
century,  and  right  under  the  shadow  of  our  church  spires, 
this  diabolical  cruelty  is  permitted  to  go  on  year  after  year. 
Oh,  I  know  all  about  it,  Miss  Mildred  :  you  are  not  the  first 
one  by  hundreds  and  hundreds.  I  wish  I  could  give  you 
more  than  sympathy,  and  that  some  other  way  would  open 
— we  must  find  some  other  way  for  you — but  you  have  no 
idea  how  many  are  worse  off  in  these  bad  times  than  you  are 
— worthy  people  who  are  willing  to  work,  but  cannot  get 
work.  If  it  seems  to  you  that  I  cannot  do  very  much  foi 
you,  remember  that  there  are  scores  who,  for  the  time,  seem 
to  have  no  resources  at  all.  I  trust  you  may  soon  hear  such 
tidings  from  your  father  as  will  bring  relief  to  both  body 
and  mind.  And  now,  my  child,  don't  let  a  morbid  con 
science  add  to  your  burdens.  When  you  are  as  greatly  in 
need  of  rest  as  you  were  last  Sunday,  don' t  come  to  the  chapel. 
I'll  take  your  class,  or  find  a  substitute." 

In  a  few  minutes  he  was  gone  ;  but  they  were  not  alone, 
for  he  had  made  them  conscious  of  One  who  is  touched  with 
the  feeling  of  our  infirmities. 

How  was  the  absent  husband  and  father  fulfilling  the 


THE  BEATITUDES  OF  OPIUM.  3°5 

hopes  that  daily  turned  to  him,  but  found  no  reward  ?  He 
jras  literally  writhing  under  chains  that,  to  his  horror,  he 
xmld  not  break.  He  had  found  on  shipboard  that  sudden 
md  complete  abstinence  from  the  drug  brought  a  torture  of 
nind  and  body  that  he  could  not  endure,  and  now  he  was 
earning,  in  sickening  fear,  that  he  could  not  gradually  re- 
luce  his  daily  allowance  below  a  certain  point  without  im- 
nediate  sufferings  beyond  his  fortitude  to  sustain. 

The  room  in  the  Inquisition,  whose  circular  walls,  studded 
vith  long,  sharp  spikes,  gradually  closed  upon  and  pierced 
he  victim,  had  its  spiritual  counterpart  in  his  present  condi- 
ion.  He  was  shut  in  on  every  side.  If  he  made  a  push  for 
iberty  by  abstaining  from  the  drug,  he  was  met  and  driven 
back  by  many  nameless  agonies.  He  seemed  to  recoil,  in- 
2vitably,  as  if  from  steel  barbs.  Meanwhile  the  walls  were 
:losing  in  upon  him.  In  order  to  prevent  life  from  being  a 
:ontinuous  burden,  in  order  to  maintain  even  the  semblance 
3f  strength  and  manhood,  so  that  he  might  have  some  chance 
Df  finding  employment,  he  had  to  increase  the  quantity  of 
morphia  daily  ;  but  each  succeeding  indulgence  brought 
icarer  the  hour  when  the  drug  would  produce  pain — pain 
3nly,  and  death.  After  a  week  or  two  of  futile  and  spasmodic 
effort  he  drifted  on  in  the  old  way,  occasionally  suffering  un» 
;old  agony  in  remorse  and  self-loathing,  but  stifling  con 
science,  memory,  and  reason,  as  far  as  possible,  by  continu 
ous  stimulation. 

His  quest  of  employment  was  naturally  unsuccessful.  The 
south  was  impoverished.  Weak  from  the  wounds  of  war, 
md  the  deeper  enervation  of  a  system  that  had  poisoned  her 
ife  for  generations,  she  had  not  yet  begun  to  rally.  There 
vas  not  enough  business  in  the  city  for  the  slow  and  nerve- 
ess  hands  of  its  citizens,  therefore  there  was  little  prospect  for 
i  new-comer,  unless  he  had  the  capital  and  energy  to  create 
ictivity  in  the  midst  of  stagnation.  A  few  were  slightly  im- 


3°6  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

posed  upon  at  first  by  Mr.  Jocelyn's  exalted  moodg,  and  be 
lieved  that  he  might  do  great  things  if  he  were  given  the 
chance  ;  but  they  soon  recognized  that  he  was  unsound  and 
visionary,  broaching  plans  and  projects  that  varied  widely 
with  each  succeeding  interview.  The  greater  number  of  his 
former  friends  and  acquaintances  were  scattered  or  dead,  and 
those  who  remembered  him  had  their  hands  too  full  to  do 
more  than  say  a  good  word  for  him — saying  it,  too,  more  and 
more  faintly  as  they  saw  how  broken  and  untrustworthy  he 
was.  The  story  of  his  behavior  on  the  ship,  and  correct  sur 
mises  of  the  true  cause  of  his  manner  and  appearance,  soon 
became  current  in  business  circles,  and  the  half-pitying,  half- 
contemptuous  manner  of  those  with  whom  he  came  in  con 
tact  at  last  made  it  clear,  even  to  his  clouded  mind,  that 
further  effort  would  be  utterly  useless. 

Meanwhile  his  habit  now  began  to  inflict  a  punishment 
that  often  seemed  beyond  endurance.  The  increased  quan 
tities  of  morphia  with  which  he  sought  to  sustain  himself, 
combined  with  his  anxiety,  remorse,  and  solicitude  for  his 
family  and  his  own  future,  filled  the  hours  of  darkness  with 
one  long  nightmare  of  horror.  His  half-sleeping  visions 
were  more  vivid  and  real  than  the  scenes  of  day.  From 
some  harrowing  illusion  he  would  start  up  with  a  groan  or 
cry,  only  to  relapse  a  few  moments  later  into  an  apparent  sit 
uation  more  appalling  and  desperate. 

The  earth  would  open  and  swallow  him  in  fathomless 
darkness  ;  then  he  was  on  a  ship  caught  in  a  maelstrom  and 
whirled  down  with  a  speed  imaginable  only  by  a  mind  as 
disordered  and  morbid  as  his  own.  Panting,  struggling, 
drenched  with  a  cold  perspiration,  he  would  struggle  back 
into  a  brief  and  miserable  consciousness.  With  scarcely  any 
respite  his  diseased  imagination  would  seize  him  again,  and 
now  the  ship,  with  tattered  sails  and  broken  masts,  would  be 
becalmed  in  the  centre  of  a  cyclone.  All  around  him  was 


THE  BEA  TITUDES  OF  OPIUM.  307 

the  whirling  tornado  from  which  the  vessel  had  passed  inta 
awful  silence  and  deceptive  peace.  Although  viewless,  a 
resistless  volume  was  circling  round  him,  a  revolving  torrent 
of  air  that  might  at  any  second  make  its  existence  known  by 
wrenching  the  ship  in  some  direction  with  such  violence  as 
to  destroy  it  at  once.  When  would  the  awful  suspense  be 
over,  and  the  cyclone,  with  a  peal  of  thunder  through  the 
rigging,  again  lay  its  frenzied  grasp  on  the  ill-fated  ship  ?  In 
unspeakable  dread  he  seemed  to  spring  from  the  deck  in  the 
hope  of  ending  all,  and  would  find  himself  gasping  on  his 
couch,  which  vice  had  made  a  place  of  torture,  not  rest. 

But  the  visions  which  most  shook  his  soul  were  those  con 
nected  with  his  wife  and  children.  He  saw  them  starving  ; 
he  saw  them  turned  into  the  street,  mocked  and  gibed  at  by 
every  passer-by.  He  saw  them  locked  up  in  prison-cells, 
under  the  charge  of  jailers  that  were  half  brute,  half  fiend  ; 
he  saw  Fred  and  Minnie  carried  off  by  an  Italian  padrone  to 
a  den  reeking  with  filth,  and  loud  with  oaths  and  obscenity. 
With  a  hoarse  shout  of  rage  he  would  spring  up  to  avert 
blows  that  were  bruising  their  little  forms  ;  he  saw  his  wife 
turn  her  despairing  eyes  from  heaven  and  curse  the  hour 
of  their  union  ;  he  saw  Mildred,,  writhing  and  resisting, 
dragged  from  her  home  by  great  dark  hands  that  were  claws 
rather  than  hands  ;  worse  than  all,  he  saw  Belle,  dressed  in 
colors  that  seemed  woven  from  stains  of  blood,  stealing  out 
under  the  cover  of  night  with  eyes  like  livid  coals. 

Such  are  the  beatific  visions  that  opium  bestows,  having 
once  enchained  its  victims.  Little  wonder  that,  after  spend 
ing  nights  upon  a  poisoned  rack,  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  in  no  con 
dition  to  meet  his  fellow-men  and  win  their  confidence. 

The  dark  thought  crossed  his  mind  more  than  once  that 
he  had  better  never  return  home — that,  since  he  had  lost  his 
manhood,  life  had  better  go  too  ;  but  in  these  darkest  and 
most  desperate  moments  the  face  of  his  wife  would  rise  be- 


308  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

fore  him,  and  from  her  white  lips  came  the  cry,  ' '  No  !  nc ! 
no  !"  with  such  agonized  intensity  that  he  was  restrained. 

Moreover,  he  had  not  given  up  hope  altogether,  and  he 
determined  to  return,  and,  unknown  to  his  family,  consult 
his  old  physician,  who  had  inadvertently  led  him  into  this 
terrible  dilemma,  and  adjure  him  to  undo  his  work.  He 
might  aid  in  concealing  the  truth  from  those  from  whom,  of 
all  others,  the  unhappy  man  would  hide  hi«  chatne.  This 
seemed  his  one  last  chance. 


THE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED.  309 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

THE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED. 

ON  the  day  preceding  Christmas,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
Roger  Atwood  boarded  a  steamer  which  had  just 
arrived  from  a  Southern  city.  His  uncle,  the  commission 
merchant,  was  expecting  a  consignment  of  tropical  fruits, 
and  as  the  young  man  stood  among  others  waiting  to  see  the 
freight  clerk,  he  overheard  one  of  the  vessel' s  officers  remark, 
"  His  name  is  Jocelyn — so  papers  on  his  person  indicate — 
and  he  must  be  sent  to  a  hospital  as  soon  as  possible." 

Advancing  promptly  to  the  speaker,  Roger  said,  "  I  over 
heard  your  remark,  sir,  and  think  I  know  the  gentleman  to 
whom  you  refer.  If  I  am  right,  I  will  take  him  to  his 
family  immediately." 

The  officer  acted  with  such  alacrity  as  to  prove  that  he  was 
very  glad  to  get  the  sick  man  off  his  hands,  and  Roger  noted 
the  fact.  A  moment  later  he  saw  Martin  Jocelyn,  sadly 
changed  for  the  worse,  and  lying  unconscious  in  a  berth. 

"  I  am  right,  I  am  very  sorry  to  say,"  Roger  said,  after  a 
moment,  with  a  long,  deep  breath.  "  This  will  be  a  terrible 
shock  to  his  family." 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  dying  ?"  the  officer  asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  will  bring  a  physician  and  take  Mr. 
Jocelyn  home  on  one  condition — that  our  consignment  of 
produce  is  delivered  at  once.  I  must  be  absent,  and  my 
employer's  interests  must  not  suffer  in  consequence.  I  am 
doing  you  a  favor,  and  you  must  return  it  just  as  promptly." 


3*0  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

The  freight  clerk  was  summoned,  and  Roger  was  assured 
that  his  uncle's  consignment  should  take  the  precedence  as 
fast  as  it  could  be  reached.  The  young  man  then  hastened 
to  find  the  nearest  physician,  stopping  a  moment  at  his  place 
of  business  to  give  a  hurried  explanation  of  his  course.  Mr. 
Atwood  listened  in  silence,  and  nodded  merely  ;  but,  as 
Roger  hastened  away,  he  muttered,  "This  mixing  himself 
up  with  other  people's  troubles  isn't  very  shrewd,  but  his 
making  capital  out  of  it  so  that  my  consignment  will  all  be 
delivered  to-night  is  —  well,  we'll  call  it  even.  He's  no 
fool." 

The  physician  was  rather  young  and  inexperienced,  and 
he  pronounced  Mr.  Jocelyn's  trouble  to  be  congestion  of  the 
brain.  He  agreed  to  go  with  Roger  to  the  old  mansion  and 
do  what  he  could  for  the  patient,  although  holding  out  slight 
hope  of  recovery. 

' '  She  is  learning  to  associate  me  with  misfortune,  and 
will  dread  my  presence  as  if  I  were  a  bird  of  ill-omen," 
Roger  groaned  mentally,  as  he  recalled  the  several  miserable 
occasions  which,  in  the  mind  of  Mildred,  were  inseparably 
connected  with  himself ;  ' '  but  some  day — some  day,  if  I  have 
to  strive  for  a  lifetime — she  shall  also  learn  that  it  is  not  I 
who  bring  the  trouble." 

Christmas  comes  at  the  darkest  and  dreariest  season  of  the 
year,  making  short,  cold  days,  and  longer,  colder  nights  the 
holiday  season,  just  as  He,  whose  birth  the  day  commemo 
rates,  comes  to  human  hearts  in  the  darkest  and  coldest 
hours  of  desolation.  Even  in  the  great  city  there  were  few 
homes  so  shadowed  by  poverty  and  sorrow  that  they  were 
not  brightened  by  some  indications  of  the  hallowed  time. 
The  old  mansion,  that  once  may  have  been  embowered  in 
evergreens,  was  again  filled  with  the  aromatic  breath  of  the 
forest,  for  Roger  had  commissioned  a  friend  in  the  country 
to  send  so  large  a  supply  to  Belle  that  she  was  embarrassed 


FHE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED.  311 

with  riches  of  hemlock,  laurel,  and  pine,  which,  although 
given  away  prodigally,  left  enough  to  transform  their  rooms 
into  the  aspect  of  bowers.  Since  they  had  not  money  for 
toys,  they  could  make  the  Christmas-tide  a  time  of  wonder 
and  delight  to  Fred  and  Minnie  in  this  inexpensive  way,  and 
Mildred,  who  would  naturally  shrink  from  the  wild  mountain 
home  of  the  evergreen  boughs,  found  in  weaving  and  arrang 
ing  them  into  tasteful  decorations  a  pleasure  alloyed  by  only 
one  thought — she  was  indebted  for  it  to  Roger  Atwood,  the 
silent  yet  determined  rival  of  the  man  she  loved.  Though 
he  buried  his  feeling  in  such  profound  silence,  and  hid  all 
manifestation  so  carefully  that  even  her  intuition  could  not  lay 
hold  of  any  one  thing,  and  say,  ' '  This  proves  it, ' '  she  never 
theless  felt  the  presence  of  his  love,  and  sometimes  thought 
she  felt  it  all  the  more  because  of  its  strong  repression.  It 
almost  vexed  her  that  he  made  no  advances,  and  gave  her 
nothing  to  resent,  while  all  the  time  he  was  seeking  her  with 
the  whole  force  of  his  will,  or  at  least  waiting  for  some  possi 
bility  of  the  future.  When  Belle  proposed  that  he  should 
help  decorate  their  living-room,  since  they,  at  this  season, 
had  only  the  remnants  of  evenings  to  give,  and  were  wearied, 
too,  almost  beyond  the  power  for  extra  effort,  she  felt  that 
for  Belle's  sake  she  ought  not  to  object,  and  that  for  her  own 
sake  she  could  not,  so  scrupulous  had  been  the  quiet,  distant 
respect  with  which  he  had  treated  her.  When  he  came  he 
seemed  to  anticipate  her  thoughts  and  to  obey  her  wishes  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  greenery,  even  before  she  spoke,  so 
keen  was  his  observation  and  quick  his  sympathy  with  her 
mind. 

These  very  facts  increased  her  prejudice  and  dislike.  He 
was  too  clever,  too  keen-sighted  and  appreciative.  Had  he 
been  indifferent  toward  her,  and  not  so  observant,  she  would 
have  soon  learned  to  like  him  and  enjoy  his  society,  for  he 
had  a  bright,  piquant  way  of  talking,  and  was  seldom  at  a 


3"  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

loss  for  words.  In  fact,  he  had  plenty  of  ideas,  and  was  fast 
gaining  more.  One  reason  why  Mildred  shrank  from  him 
in  strengthening  repulsion  was  because,  in  his  absorbing  in 
terest  and  his  quick  comprehension  of  her  thought  and  feel 
ing,  he  came  too  near.  Without  intending  it,  and  in  spite 
of  himself,  he  intruded  on  her  woman's  privacy  ;  for  no  mat 
ter  how  careful  he  might  be,  or  how  guarded  she  was  in 
words  or  manner,  she  felt  that  he  understood  what  was  in 
her  mind.  Her  natural  impulse,  therefore,  was  to  shun  his 
presence  and  suppress  her  own  individuality  when  she  could 
not  escape  him,  for  only  an  answering  affection  on  her  part 
could  make  such  understanding  appreciation  acceptable. 

Roger  was  not  long  in  guessing  quite  accurately  how  he 
stood  in  her  thoughts,  and  he  was  often  much  depressed. 
As  he  had  said  to  Clara  Bute,  he  had  a  downright  dislike  to 
contend  against,  and  this  might  not  change  with  his  success. 
And  now  it  was  his  misfortune  to  become  associated  in  her 
mind  with  another  painful  event — perhaps  a  fatal  one.  She 
might  thank  him  sincerely  for  his  kindness  and  the  trouble 
he  had  taken  in  their  behalf,  but,  all  the  same,  deep  in  hei 
heart,  the  old  aversion  would  be  strengthened. 

"That  invertebrate,  Arnold,"  he  muttered,  "represents 
to  her  the  old,  happy  life  ;  I,  her  present  life,  and  it's  my 
luck  always  to  appear  when  things  are  at  their  worst  After 
to-night  she  will  shudder  with  apprehension  whenever  she 
sees  me.  What  will  become  of  them  if  Mr.  Jocelyn  dies  !" 

Full  of  forebodings  and  distress  at  the  shock  and  sorrow 
impending  over  those  in  whom  he  was  so  deeply  interested, 
he  and  the  physician  placed  Mr.  Jocelyn  in  a  covered  express 
wagon  that  was  improvised  into  an  ambulance,  and  drove 
up  town  as  rapidly  as  they  dared. 

In  response  to  a  low  knock  Mrs.  Jocelyn  opened  the  door, 
and  the  white,  troubled  face  of  Roger  announced  evil  tidings 
before  a  word  was  spoken. 


ThE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED.  313 

"  My  husband  !"  she  gasped,  sinking  into  a  chair. 

The  young  man  knelt  beside  her  and  said,  "  Mrs.  Joce- 
lyn,  his  life  may  depend  on  your  courage  and  fortitude." 

He  had  touched  the  right  chord,  and,  after  a  momentary 
and  half-convulsive  sob,  she  rose  quietly,  and  said,  "  Tell 
me  what  to  do — tell  me  the  worst ' ' 

"  I  have  brought  him  with  me,  and  I  have  a  physician 
also.  I  found  him  on  a  steamer,  by  accident.  They  were 
about  to  send  him  to  a  hospital,  but  I  was  sure  you  would 
want  him  brought  home." 

' '  Oh,  yes — God  bless  you — bring  him,  bring  him  quick.  * 

"  Courage.     Good  nursing  will  prevent  the  worst." 

Roger  hastened  back  to  the  patient,  stopping  on  the  way 
only  long  enough  to  ask  Mrs.  Wheaton  to  go  to  Mrs.  Joce- 
lyn's  room  instantly,  and  then,  with  the  physician's  aid,  he 
carried  the  unconscious  man  to  his  room,  and  laid  him  on 
his  bed. 

"  Oh,  Martin  !  Martin  !"  moaned  the  wife,  "  how  changed 
how  changed  !  Oh,  God  !  he's  dying." 

"I  hope  not,  madam,'1  said  the  physician  ;  "at  any  rate 
we  must  all  keep  our  self-possession  and  do  our  best.  While 
there  is  life  there  is  hope." 

With  dilated  eyes,  and  almost  fierce  repression  of  all  aid 
from  other  hands,  she  took  the  clothing  from  the  limp  and 
wasted  form. 

"Hew  dying,"  she  moaned;  "see  how  unnatural  his 
eyes  are  ;  the  pupils  are  almost  gone.  Oh,  God  !  why  did 
I  let  him  go  from  me  when  he  was  so  ill  !" 

4 '  Would  you  not  like  Belle  and  Miss  Mildred  summoned 
at  once  ?"  Roger  asked. 

"  Yes,  yes,  they  ought  to  be  here  now  ;  every  moment 
may  be  precious,  and  he  may  become  conscious. ' ' 

"  At  the  same  time  I  would  like  you  to  call  on  Dr.  Benton 
in  Twenty-third  Street, "  added  the  physician.  "He  is  a 


3H  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

friend  of  mine,  and  has  had  much  experience.     In  so  serious 
a  case  I  would  like  to  consult  him." 

Roger,  while  on  his  way  to  Dr.  Bcnton's  office,  passed  a 
livery-stable  with  a  coach  standing  just  within  the  door,  and 
he  at  once  resolved  that  the  weary  girls  should  not  be  ex 
hausted  by  flying  home  in  tetror-stricken  haste.  He  took 
the  carriage,  obtained  the  physician,  and  explained  to  him 
what  had  happened  while  on  the  way  to  the  shop  in  which 
Belle  was  employed.  It  was  Christmas  eve,  and  the  store 
was  still  crowded  with  eleventh-hour  purchasers,  on  whom  the 
weary  child  was  waiting  in  a  jaded,  mechanical  way.  Her 
vacant  look  and  the  dark  lines  under  her  eyes  proved  how 
exhausted  she  was  ;  but  at  the  sight  of  Roger  a  flash  of 
light  and  pleasure  came  into  her  face,  and  then  his  expres 
sion  caused  it  to  fade  into  extreme  pallor. 

"  What  is  it?"  she  asked,  turning  from  a  garrulous  cus 
tomer. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed  ;  get  your  things  and  come  with  me. 
I  will  make  it  all  right  with  your  employer. " 

"  Belle,"  he  said,  when  they  were  by  the  carriage  door, 
"  you  must  be  a  brave  woman  to-night.  Your  father  is 
home,  and  he  is  very  ill.  Perhaps  his  life  depends  on  quiet 
and  freedom  from  all  excitement.  Dr.  Benton,  an  experi 
enced  physician,  is  in  the  carriage,  and  will  go  with  us.  You 
must  tell  your  sister — I  cannot." 

If  Belle  had  been  herself  she  would  not  have  failed  him  ; 
but,  after  the  long  strain  of  the  day,  she  became  completely 
unnerved  at  his  tidings,  and  sobbed  almost  hysterically.  She 
could  not  control  herself  sufficiently  to  enter  the  shop  where 
Mildred  stood,  unconscious  of  the  approaching  shadow,  and 
so  the  heavy  task  of  breaking  the  news  fell  upon  Roger. 
"  If  Belle,  naturally  so  strong,  was  white  and  faint  from  the 
long,  toilsome  day,  how  wan  and  ghost-like  poor  Mildred 
will  appear  !"  was  his  thought  as  he  sprang  to  the  sidewalk. 


THE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED.  3*5 

They  were  closing  up,  and  the  discipline  of  the  shop  was 
over.  Instead  of  pallor,  there  was  an  angry  crimson  in  Mil 
dred's  cheeks,  and  an  indignant  fire  in  her  eyes.  She  evi 
dently  was  deeply  incensed,  and  her  companions  apparently 
were  as  greatly  amused.  When  she  saw  Roger  the  crimson 
deepened  in  her  face,  her  brow  knitted  in  strong  vexation, 
and  she  went  on  with  her  task  of  putting  the  goods  under 
her  charge  in  order,  as  if  she  had  not  seen  him  ;  but  the 
thought  flashed  through  her  mind  :  "  Oh  that  he  were  to 
me  what  he  is  to  Belle  !  Then  he  might  punish  my  in 
solent  persecutor,  but  he's  the  last  one  in  the  world  to  whom 
I  can  appeal.  Oh,  where  is  papa  ?" 

"  Miss  Jocelyn — " 

"  Don't  you  see  you  have  another  beau  ?"  whispered  one 
of  her  companions  as  she  passed  out.  "  You  won't  treat 
this  one  with  words  and  manner  that  are  the  same  as  a  slap 
in  the  face,  for  he's  too  good-looking." 

She  paid  no  heed  to  the  gibe,  for  the  young  man's  tone 
was  significant,  and  she  had  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  with  eager 
questioning.  His  grave,  sad  face  banished  the  flush  from 
hers  instantly. 

"  Miss  Jocelyn,"  Roger  began  again,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  you  have  already  learned  to  associate  me  with  painful  ex 
periences.  I  cannot  help  it.  But  this,  my  misfortune,  is 
nothing  ;  you  must  nerve  yourself  for  anxiety  that  will  test 
even  your  strength.  Your  father  is  home,  and  ill.  I  will 
not  explain  further  before  strangers.  Belle  and  a  physician 
are  awaiting  you  in  the  carriage. ' ' 

How  quiet  and  measured  were  his  words  ;  but  even  in  her 
distress  she  was  painfully  conscious  that  the  slight  tremor  in  his 
voice  was  the  low  vibration  of  a  feeling  whose  repressed  intensity 
would  sooner  or  later  break  forth.  Beyond  a  momentary  shrink 
ing  from  what  seemed  to  her  but  well-mastered  vehemence^ 
she  gave  him  no  thought  in  her  overwhelming  solicitude. 


3'6  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

Scarcely  a  moment  elapsed  before  she  joined  him  at  the 
door.  As  he  placed  her  in  the  carriage  he  said,  "  Dr.  Ben- 
ton  will  explain  to  you  what  has  happened." 

"  Roger — "  sobbed  Belle,  but  he  sprang  on  the  box  with 
the  driver,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were  at  the  door  of 
the  old  mansion. 

"Dr.  Ben  ton,"  said  the  young  man,  "will  you  please 
accompany  Miss  Jocelyn  ?  After  the  fatigue  of  the  day  and 
the  shock  of  this  evening  she  will  need  your  support,"  and 
he  saw  that  she  leaned  heavily  on  the  physician's  arm. 

Having  dismissed  the  carriage,  he  found  Belle  leaning 
against  the  side  of  the  house,  faint  and  trembling.  The 
young  athlete  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  bore  her  steadily 
and  easily  to  the  doorway,  and  then  again  up  the  winding 
stairway.  "  Belle,"  he  whispered,  "  if  you  lose  your  father 
you  shall  at  least  have  a  brother. ' ' 

She  entwined  her  arm  about  his  neck  in  mute  acceptance 
of  the  relationship.  Her  every  breath  was  a  low  sob,  and 
she  could  not  then  tell  him  how  his  words  reassured  her, 
taking  away,  in  part,  the  almost  overwhelming  terror  of 
being  left  unprotected  in  the  world. 

During  Mr.  Jocelyn' s  absence  his  family  had  tried  to 
banish  from  their  minds  the  memory  of  his  weakness,  and 
thus  they  had  come  to  think  of  him  again  as  the  strong, 
cheerful,  genial  man  they  had  known  all  their  lives.  The 
months  preceding  his  departure  were  like  a  hateful  dream. 
It  had  been  a  dearly  cherished  hope  that,  after  breathing  his 
native  air  for  a  few  weeks,  he  would  return  the  same  frank, 
clear-eyed,  clear-brained  man  that  had  won  his  way,  even 
among  strangers,  after  the  wreck  and  ruin  of  the  war.  To 
him  their  thoughts  had  turned  daily,  in  the  hope  of  release 
from  toil  that  was  often  torture,  and  from  anxieties  that  filled 
every  waking  hour  with  foreboding. 

How  bitter  the  disappointment  then,  and  how  terrible  the 


THE  SECRE  T  VICE  RE  VEALED.  3 1  7 

shock,  as  they  now  looked  upon  his  prostrate  form,  meagre, 
shrunken,  and  almost  lifeless  !  Instead  of  the  full,  dark  eyes 
that  had  beamed  mirthfully  and  lovingly  for  so  many  years, 
there  was  an  unnatural  contraction  of  the  pupils  which  ren 
dered  them  almost  invisible.  His  once  healthful  complexion 
was  now  livid,  or  rather  of  a  leaden,  bluish  hue  ;  his  respira 
tions  stertorous  and  singularly  deliberate. 

"  He  is  dying,"  Mildred  moaned  ;  "  he  is  far,  far  away 
from  us,  even  now.  Oh,  if  we  could  have  but  one  look, 
one  sign  of  farewell  !" 

Belle  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  became  almost  helpless  with  grief, 
for  it  did  not  seem  possible  to  them  that  he  could  rally. 
"  Oh,  why  did  I  let  him  go — why  did  I  let  him  go  !"  was 
the  wife's  remorseful  and  often-repeated  question. 

The  elderly  and  experienced  physician  whom  Roger  had 
brought  ignored  with  professional  indifference  the  grief- 
stricken  household,  and  was  giving  his  whole  mind  to  the 
study  of  the  case.  After  examining  the  pupils  of  Mr.  Joce 
lyn' s  eyes,  taking  his  temperature,  and  counting  his  pulse, 
he  looked  at  his  associate  and  shook  his  head  significantly. 
Roger,  who  stood  in  the  background,  saw  that  Dr.  Benton 
did  not  accept  the  young  physician's  diagnosis.  A  moment 
later  Dr.  Benton  bared  the  patient's  arm  and  pointed  to 
many  small  scars,  some  old  and  scarcely  visible,  and  others 
recent  and  slightly  inflamed.  The  young  practitioner  then 
apparently  understood  him,  for  he  said,  "  This  is  both 
worse  and  better  than  I  feared. ' ' 

"Worse,  worse,"  growled  Dr.  Benton. 

1 '  What  do  you  mean  ?' '  asked  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  more  dead 
than  alive. 

"Madam,"  began  Dr.  Benton  very  gravely,  "  have  you 
never  seen  your  husband  using  a  little  instrument  like  this  ?" 
and  he  produced  from  his  pocket  a  hypodermic  syringe. 

' '  Never, ' '  was  the  perplexed  and  troubled  reply. 


3 1 8  WITHO  UT  A  HOME. 

The  physician  smiled  a  little  satirically,  and  remarked,  in 
a  low  aside,  "  I  hope  the  drug  has  not  affected  the  whole 
family.  It's  next  to  impossible  to  get  at  the  truth  in  these 
cases. ' ' 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  die  ?"  was  her  agonized  query. 

"  No,  madam,  we  can  soon  bring  him  around,  I  think, 
and  indeed  he  would  probably  have  come  out  of  this  excess 
unaided  ;  but  he  had  better  die  than  continue  his  excessive 
use  of  morphia.  I  can  scarcely  conceive  how  you  could  have 
remained  ignorant  of  the  habit." 

Mildred  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands  with  a  low,  despair 
ing  cry,  for  a  flash  of  lurid  light  now  revealed  and  explained 
all  that  had  been  so  strange  and  unaccountable.  The  terri 
ble  secret  was  now  revealed,  as  far  as  she  was  able  to  compre 
hend  it— her  father  was  an  opium  inebriate,  and  this  was 
but  the  stupor  of  a  debauch  !  The  thought  of  his  death  had 
been  terrible,  but  was  not  this  worse  ?  She  lifted  her  face  in 
a  swift  glance  at  Roger,  and  saw  him  looking  at  her  with  an 
expression  that  was  full  of  the  strongest  sympathy,  and  some 
thing  more.  She  coldly  averted  her  eyes,  and  a  slow,  deep 
flush  of  shame  rose  to  her  face.  "  Never  shall  I  endure  a 
humiliation  but  he  will  witness  it,  and  be  a  part  of  it,"  was 
her  bitter  thought. 

The  physicians  meanwhile  changed  their  treatment,  and 
were  busy  with  professional  nonchalance.  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
was  at  first  too  bewildered  by  their  words  and  manner  to  do 
more  than  look  at  them,  with  hands  clasping  and  unclasping 
in  nervous  apprehension,  and  with  eyes  full  of  deep  and 
troubled  perplexity.  Then,  as  the  truth  grew  clearer,  that  a 
reflection  had  been  made  upon  her  own  and  her  husband's 
truth,  she  rose  Unsteadily  to  her  feet,  and  said,  with  a 
pathetic  attempt  at  dignity,  "  I  scarcely  understand  you, 
and  fear  that  you  as  little  understand  my  husband's  con 
dition.  He  never  concealed  anything  from  me.  He  has 


THE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED.  319 

been  unfortunate  and  in  failing  health  for  months,  and  that 
is  all.  I  fear,  from  your  cruel  and  unjust  surmises,  that  you 
do  not  know  what  you  are  doing,  and  that  you  are  destroy 
ing  his  slender  chances  for  life. ' ' 

"  Do  you  wish  to  discharge  us,  then  ?"  was  Dr.  Benton's 
brusque  response.  He  was  a  man  of  unusual  skill,  but 
blunt  and  unsympathetic,  especially  in  cases  wherein  he  sus 
pected  deception — an  element  almost  inseparable  from  the 
morphia  habit.  The  victim  is  almost  invariably  untruthful, 
and  the  family  not  unfrequently  hide  the  whole  truth  in  the 
desire  to  shield  the  disgraceful  weakness.  Dr.  Benton  was 
too  familiar  with  these  facts  to  be  easily  moved,  but  when 
the  sad-hearted  wife  clasped  her  hands  and  cried,  in  tones 
that  would  touch  the  coldest  heart,  ' '  I  wish  him  to  live,  for 
his  death  would  be  far  worse  than  death  to  us  all, ' '  the  phy 
sician  said  kindly,  "  There,  there,  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  I  have 
seen  many  cases  like  this.  Your  husband  will  live,  and  will 
soon  be  able  to  speak  to  you.  If  you  then  can  induce  him  to 
leave  morphia  alone,  he  may  become  as  sound  a  man  as  ever. ' ' 

Mildred  put  her  arm  around  her  mother  and  drew  her  into 
her  room,  closing  the  door. 

A  few  moments  later  Roger  heard  the  wife's  passionate 
protest,  "I  do  not  believe  it — I  will  never  believe  it." 
Then  Dr.  Benton  said  to  him,  "  Here,  young  man,  run  to 
my  house  for  an  electric  battery." 

When  he  returned  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  coming  slowly  out  of 
his  deep  coma,  and  his  appearance  was  changing  rapidly  for 
the  better.  There  was  a  deep,  indignant  flush  on  Mrs. 
Jocelyn' s  face,  and  she  took  Roger  aside  and  said  earnestly, 
41  Never  believe  the  lies  you  have  heard  here  to-night.  I 
know  that  you  will  never  repeat  them. ' ' 

"  Never,  Mrs.   Jocelyn." 

But  Mildred  was  pale  and  almost  stony  in  her  cold,  calm 
aspect ;  her  heart,  in  her  desperation,  was  hard  toward  every 


320  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

one.  Belle  had  not  comprehended  the  truth  at  all,  having 
been  too  much  overwhelmed  by  her  emotions  to  heed  the 
earlier  remarks  of  the  physicians,  and  Mildred  had  said  to 
them  significantly  and  almost  sternly,  "  There  is  no  need  of 
giving  your  diagnosis  any  further  publicity." 

Dr.  Benton  had  then  looked  at  her  more  attentively,  and 
muttered,  "  An  unusual  girl  ;  more's  the  pity." 

"  Mr.  Atwood,'  Mildred  began,  a  few  moments  after  his 
entrance,  ' '  we  thank  you  for  your  aid  in  this  painful  emer 
gency,  but  we  need  trouble  you  no  further.  Papa  is  rallying 
fast.  I  will  thank  you  to  inform  me  of  all  the  expense 
which  you  have  incurred  in  our  behalf  at  your  earliest  con 
venience.  ' ' 

"  Mildred,"  interposed  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  suddenly  appearing 
from  beside  her  husband's  couch,  the  unwonted  fire  still 
burning  in  her  usually  gentle  eyes,  "  I  cannot  permit  Mr. 
Atwood  to  be  dismissed  so  coldly.  He  has  been  a  true 
friend  in  the  most  terrible  emergency  of  our  lives.  I  must 
have  a  strong,  kind  hand  to  sustain  me  now  that  my  hus 
band,  my  life,  has  been  foully  slandered  in  his  own  home." 

Belle,  in  even  greater  terror  of  being  left  alone,  clung  to 
his  arm,  and  said,  "  He  cannot  leave  us — he  has  made  rne  a 
promise  this  night  which  will  keep  him  here." 

With  a  troubled  and  deprecating  look  at  Mildred,  Roger 
replied,  "  I  will  not  fail  you,  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  nor  you,  Belle  ; 
but  there  is  no  further  need  of  my  intruding  on  your  privacy. 
I  shall  be  within  call  all  night" 

"  He  can  stay  hin  my  room,"  said  Mrs.  Wheaton,  who, 
although  aiding  the  physicians,  could  not  help  overhearing 
the  conversation. 

"  No,  he  shall  stay  here,"  cried  Belle  passionately  ;  "I'm 
so  unnerved  that  I'm  almost  beside  myself,  and  he  quiets  me 
and  makes  me  feel  safer.  Millie  has  no  right  to  show  her 
prejudice  at  such  a  time." 


THE  SECRET  VICE  REVEALED.  321 

Mildred,  white  and  faint,  sank  into  a  chair  by  the  table 
and  buried  her  face  in  her  arms,  leaving  the  young  fellow  in 
sore  perplexity  as  to  what  course  he  ought  to  take.  He  be 
lieved  the  physicians  were  right,  and  yet  Mrs.  Jocelyn  had 
taken  it  for  granted  that  he  shared  her  faith  in  her  husband's 
truth,  and  he  knew  she  would  banish  him  from  her  presence 
instantly  should  he  betray  a  doubt  as  to  the  correctness  of 
her  view.  At  the  same  time  the  expression  of  his  face  had 
shown  Mildred  that  he  understood  her  father's  condition 
even  better  than  she  did.  It  seemed  impossible  to  perform 
the  difficult  and  delicate  part  required  of  him,  but  with  love's 
loyalty  he  determined  to  do  what  he  imagined  the  young  girl 
would  wish,  and  he  said  firmly,  "  Belle,  I  again  assure  you 
that  you  can  depend  upon  my  promise  to  the  utmost  Mrs. 
Jocelyn,  my  respect  for  you  is  unbounded,  and  the  privilege 
of  serving  you  is  the  best  reward  I  crave.  At  the  same  time 
I  feel  that  it  is  neither  right  nor  delicate  for  me  to  witness 
sorrows  that  are  so  sacred.  My  part  is  to  help,  and  not  look 
on,  and  I  can  help  just  as  well  if  within  call  all  the  time. 
Belle,"  he  whispered,  "dear  Belle,  I  know  you  are  un 
nerved  by  weeks  of  overwork  as  well  as  by  this  great  trouble, 
but  be  a  brave  little  woman  once  more,  and  all  may  soon  be 
well, ' '  and  he  was  about  to  withdraw  when  Dr.  Benton  ap 
peared  and  said: 

"  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  your  husband  is  now  out  of  all  immediate 
danger,  but  everything  depends  upon  his  future  treatment.  I 
wish  this  young  man  to  remain  a  little  longer,  for  you  must  now 
decide  upon  what  course  you  will  take.  We  have  been  called 
in  an  emergency.  There  is  no  need  that  I  should  remain 
any  longer,  for  the  physician  who  accompanied  him  here  is 
now  amply  competent  to  attend  to  the  case.  You  have,  how 
ever,  expressed  lack  of  confidence  in  us,  and  may  wish  to 
send  for  your  own  physician.  If  so,  this  young  man  can  go 
for  him  at  once.  I  can  prove  to  you  in  two  minutes  that  I 


322  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

am  right,  and  I  intend  to  do  so ;  then  my  responsibility 
ceases.  Everything  depends  on  your  intelligent  and  firm 
co-operation  with  whatever  physician  has  charge  of  the  case, 
and  it  is  no  kindness  to  leave  you  under  a  delusion  that  does 
your  heart  more  credit  than  your  head  or  eyes." 

He  stepped  back  through  the  curtained  doorway,  and  re 
turned  with  her  husband's  vest,  from  an  inner  pocket  of 
which  he  took  a  hypodermic  syringe,  a  bottle  of  Magendie's 
solution,  and  also  another  vial  of  the  sulphate  of  morphia. 

' '  I  am  an  old  physician, ' '  he  resumed,  ' '  and  know  your 
husband's  symptoms  as  well  as  you  know  his  face.  His 
possession  of  these  articles  should  confirm  my  words.  The 
slight  scars  upon  his  arms  and  elsewhere  were  made  by  this 
little  instrument,  as  I  can  show  you  if  you  will  come  and 
observe — ' ' 

His  medical  logic  was  interrupted  by  a  low  cry  from  the 
stricken  wife,  and  then  she  fainted  dead  away. 

Mildred,  on  the  contrary,  stepped  forward,  with  a  pale, 
stern  face,  and  said,  ' '  I  will  take  charge  of  these, ' '  and  she 
carried  the  agents  of  their  ruin  to  her  own  room.  Instantly 
she  returned,  and  assisted  Mrs.  Wheaton  in  the  restoration 
of  her  mother. 

To  Belle,  who  had  looked  on  dazed,  trembling,  and  be 
wildered,  Roger  whispered,  "  I  shall  be  within  call  all 
night." 


AN  OPIUM  MANIACS  CHRISTMAS.  323 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 
AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS. 

BENEATH  his  brusque  manner  Dr.  Benton  masked  a 
kind  heart  when  once  its  sympathies  were  touched. 
He  soon  became  satisfied  that  Mr.  Jocelyn's  family  were  not 
trying  to  shield  his  patient,  but  were,  on  the  contrary,  over 
whelmed  with  dismay  and  shame  at  the  truth  which  he  had 
made  clear  to  them.  He  therefore  set  about  helping  them, 
in  his  own  prosaic  but  effective  way,  and  he  did  not  leave 
them  until  they  were  all  as  well  and  quiet  as  the  dread  cir 
cumstances  of  the  situation  permitted.  Opium  slaves  are 
subject  to  accidents  like  that  which  had  overtaken  Mr.  Joce- 
lyn,  who,  through  h.eedlessness  or  while  half  unconscious, 
had  taken  a  heavy  overdose,  or  else  had  punctured  a  vein 
with  his  syringe.  Not  infrequently  habitues  carelessly,  reck 
lessly,  and  sometimes  deliberately  end  their  wretched  lives  in 
this  manner.  Dr.  Benton  knew  well  that  his  patient  was  in 
no  condition  to  enter  upon  any  radical  curative  treatment, 
and  it  was  his  plan  to  permit  the  use  of  the  drug  for  a  few 
days,  seeking  meanwhile  to  restore  as  far  as  possible  his 
patient's  shattered  system,  arid  then  gain  the  man's  honest 
and  hearty  co,-operation  :J)  the  terrible  ordeal  essential  to 
health  and  freedom.  If  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  not  the  nerve 
and  will-power  to  carry  out  his  treatment — which  he  much 
doubted — he  would  advise  that  he  be  induced  to  go  to  an 
institution  where  the  will  of  others  could  enforce  the  absti 
nence  required.  He  believed  that  Mr.  Jocelyn  would  consent 


324  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

to  this,  when  convinced  of  his  inability  to  endure  the  ordeal 
in  his  own  strength.  Having  explained  his  intentions  and 
hopes  to  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred,  he  left  them  cast  down 
indeed,  but  not  utterly  devoid  of  hope. 

It  seemed  to  them  that  the  husband  and  father  must  re 
nounce  the  fatal  habit  at  once,  in  response  to  their  appeals. 
They  could  not  understand  that  it  was  already  beyond  his 
power  to  break  his  chains — that  they  must  be  broken  by 
other  hands,  if  broken  at  all. 

It  may  well  be  doubted  if  the  light  of  Christmas  day 
dawned  on  a  sadder  household  than  that  which  was  sheltered 
in  the  old  mansion.  Worn  and  exhausted  to  the  last  degree, 
and  yet  sleepless  from  anxiety,  grief,  and  shame,  the  two 
women  watched  beside  the  fitful,  half-conscious  man.  At 
last  he  appeared  to  throw  off  his  stupor  sufficiently  to  recog 
nize  his  wife  ;  but  it  was  with  a  strange  look,  in  which  were 
blended  fear,  suspicion,  and  shame.  A  cold  perspiration 
broke  out  over  his  whole  form,  for  something  in  her  expres 
sion,  and  especially  in  the  aspect  of  Mildred's  face,  seemed 
to  indicate  that  they  knew  all,  and  his  own  guilty  fears  and 
conscience  made  the  surmise  true  for  the  moment  ;  but  the 
tender  manner  in  which  his  wife  wiped  his  brow  and  kissed 
him  were  reassuring,  and  with  his  rallying  powers  grew  the 
hope  that  his  weakness  might  yet  be  unknown  and  success 
fully  concealed  until,  by  his  physician's  aid,  he  had  thrown 
off  the  curse.  Fearing  above  and  beyond  all  things  else  that 
his  wife  would  learn  his  degradation,  he  slowly  and  fitfully 
tried  to  mature  plans  of  deception  ;  but  his  enfeebled  mind 
rallied  so  slowly  that  he  felt  for  a  time  that  silence  and  ob 
servation  were  his  best  allies.  He  would  cautiously  and 
suspiciously  feel  his  way,  and  having  learned  all  that  had 
transpired  since  he  remembered  being  on  the  steamer,  he 
could  then  decide  more  clearly  how  to  shape  his  course. 
He  therefore  affected  to  regard  his  condition  as  the  result  of 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  325 

a  severe  illness,  and  murmured  that  "  quiet  and  home  life 
would  soon  bring  him  round." 

Mildred  kissed  him  also,  and  answered,  "  We  cannot 
think  otherwise,  papa,  for  our  love,  our  lives,  and  all  are 
bound  up  in  you." 

The  morning  dragged  heavily  away,  for  all  except  the  little 
ones  were  under  the  impression  that  dark  and  woeful  days 
were  before  them.  Dr.  Benton  had  not  disguised  the  truth 
— that  the  problem  with  which  they  had  to  deal  was  one  of 
great  difficulty  and  much  doubt.  This  prospect  was  de 
pressing,  but  that  which  weighed  like  lead  upon  their  hearts 
was  the  thought  that  one  who  had  ever  been  their  ideal  of 
honor  and  truth  had  deceived  them  for  months,  and  had 
steadily  yielded  to  a  habit  which  he  knew  must  destroy  his 
family's  honor  and  leave  them  friendless,  penniless,  and  dis 
graced.  The  weeks  of  pain  that  Mildred  had  endured  were 
not  the  result  of  a  hard  necessity,  but  of  a  vicious  indulgence 
of  a  depraved  appetite.  Not  disease  but  sin  had  so  darkened 
their  lives  and  brought  them  to  a  pass  where  even  daily  bread 
and  shelter  for  the  future  were  doubtful  questions. 

"  A  thousand  times  Mildred  asked  herself,  "  How  can  I 
go  out  and  face  the  world  with  my  name  blackened  by  this 
great  cloud  of  shame  ?"  She  felt  as  if  she  never  wished  to 
step  into  the  open  light  of  clay  again,  and  the  thought  of 
Vinton  Arnold  made  her  shudder.  "  There  is  now  a  great 
gulf  between  us, ' '  she  moaned.  ' '  The  truth  that  my  father 
is  an  opium  slave  can  never  be  hidden,  and  even  were  Vinton 
inclined  to  be  faithful,  his  family  would  regard  me  as  a  leper, 
and  he  will  yield  to  their  abhorrence. ' ' 

:  The  wound  in  both  her  own  and  her  mother's  heart  was 
deep  indeed.  Their  confidence  was  shattered,  their  faith  in 
human  goodness  and  honor  destroyed.  While  they  still 
hoped  much,  they  nevertheless  harbored  a  desperate  fear, 
and,  at  best,  the  old  serene  trust  could  never  return.  Even 


326  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

if  Mr.  Jocelyn  could  rally  and  reform,  there  would  ever 
remain  the  knowledge  that  he  had  once  been  weak  and  false, 
and  might  be  again.  He  would  be  one  who  must  be 
watched,  shielded,  and  sustained,  and  not  one  upon  whom 
they  could  lean  in  quiet  faith.  The  quaking  earth  which 
shatters  into  ruin  the  material  home  brings  but  a  slight 
disaster  compared  with  the  vice  that  destroys  a  life-long  trust 
in  a  husband  and  father. 

Mr.  Jocelyn' s  nerves  were  much  too  weak  and  irritable  to 
endure  his  children's  voices,  and  their  innocence  and  un 
consciousness  of  danger  smote  him  with  unendurable  re 
morse  ;  they  were,  therefore,  sent  to  Mrs.  Wheaton's  room. 
There,  too,  Belle  met  Roger,  and  was  much  reassured  by  his 
hopeful  words.  She  only  half  comprehended  the  truth  con 
cerning  her  father,  and  now,  feeling  the  worst  was  past,  her 
mercurial  nature  was  fast  regaining  its  cheerfulness.  She 
was  one  who  might  despair  one  day  and  be  joyous  the  next 
Like  her  father,  she  had  unlimited  courage,  and  but  little 
fortitude.  Although  she  did  not  know  it,  the  outlook  for 
her  was  more  threatening  than  for  any  of  the  others,  tor  she 
could  not  patiently  submit  to  a  slow,  increasing  pressure  of 
poverty  and  privation.  As  her  father  feared,  she  might  be 
driven  to  interpose  the  protest  of  a  reckless  life. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  was  greatly  reassured  when  Dr.  Benton  called, 
and  treated  him  with  much  respect ;  and  when  a  liberal 
allowance  of  morphia  was  injected  into  his  arm,  he  became 
quite  cheerful,  believing  that  not  only  his  family  but  even 
the  physician  was  unaware,  as  yet,  of  his  weakness.  By 
neither  sign  nor  word  did  Dr.  Benton  indicate  his  knowl 
edge,  for  it  was  his  design  to  rally  his  patient  into  the  best 
possible  condition,  and  then  induce  him  to  yield  himself  up 
wholly  to  medical  skill,  naturally  believing  that  in  his  pres 
ent  enfeebled  state  he  would  shrink  from  entering  on  the 
decisive  and  heroic  treatment  required.  Promising  to  call  in 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  Z27 

the  evening,  he  left  Mr.  Jocelyn  apparently  very  much  im 
proved. 

In  the  afternoon  Mildred  went  to  her  room  to  seek  a  little 
rest.  The  physician  thought  he  had  given  enough  of  the 
drug  to  satisfy  his  patient  until  he  returned,  but  he  had  not 
properly  gauged  the  morbid  craving  with  which  he  was  trying 
to  deal,  and  as  the  day  declined  Mr.  Jocelyn  became  very 
restless.  Finally,  he  said  he  felt  so  much  better  that  he 
would  rise  and  dress  himself,  and,  in  spite  of  his  wife's  re 
monstrances,  he  persisted  in  doing  so.  Although  tottering 
from  weakness,  he  said,  irritably,  and  almost  imperiously, 
that  he  needed  no  help,  and  wished  to  be  alone.  With  sad 
foreboding  his  wife  yielded,  and  waited  tremblingly  for  his 
next  step,  for  he  had  become  to  her  an  awful  mystery. 

Her  fears  were  fulfilled,  for  he  soon  lifted  the  curtain  door 
and  looked  at  her  in  a  strange,  suspicious  manner.  ' '  I  miss 
some  medicine  from  my  vest  pocket,"  he  said  hesitatingly. 

Her  face  crimsoned,  and  she  found  no  words  with  which 
to  reply. 

"  Did  you  take  it  out  ?"  he  demanded  sharply. 

"  No,"  she  faltered. 

His  manner  began  to  grow  excited,  and  he  looked  like  a 
distorted  image  of  his  former  self.  Anger,  suspicion,  fear, 
and  cunning  were  all  blended  in  his  face,  but  he  so  far  mas 
tered  himself  as  to  assume  a  wheedling  tone  and  manner  as 
he  came  toward  her  and  said,  "  Nan,  it  was  only  a  little  tonic 
that  I  found  beneficial  while  in  the  South.  You  must  know 
where  it  is.  Please  give  it  to  me. ' ' 

The  poor  woman  was  so  overcome  by  her  husband's  ap 
pearance  and  falsehood  that  she  felt  sick  and  faint,  and  knew 
not  what  to  say. 

' '  Where  is  it  ?' '  he  demanded  angrily,  for  he  felt  that 
unless  he  had  the  support  of  the  drug  speedily,  he  would 
wholly  lose  his  self-control. 


328  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

' '  Oh,  Martin, ' '  pleaded  his  wife,  ' '  wait  till  Dr.  Benton 
comes  ;  he  will  be  here  this  evening." 

"  Why  this  ado  about  nothing  ?  I  merely  wish  to  take  a 
little  tonic,  and  you  look  as  if  I  proposed  suicide." 

' '  Martin,  Martin,  it  is  suicide  of  body  and  soul.  It  is 
worse  than  murder  of  me  and  your  innocent  children.  Oh, 
Martin,  my  heart's  true  love,  make  me  a  Christmas  gift  that 
I  will  prize  next  to  Him  from  whom  the  day  is  named. 
Give  me  the  promise  that  you  will  never  touch  the  vile 
poison  again,"  and  she  knelt  before  him  and  sought  to  take 
his  hand. 

For  a  moment  he  was  overwhelmed.  She  evidently  knew 
all  !  He  sank  into  a  chair,  and  trembled  almost  convulsively. 
Then  came  the  impulse — an  almost  inevitable  effect  of  the 
drug  upon  the  moral  nature — to  lie  about  the  habit,  and  to 
strive  to  conceal  it,  even  after  an  unclouded  mind  would  see 
that  deception  was  impossible. 

"  Nan,"  he  began,  as  he  grew  a  little  quieter,  "  you  take 
cruel  advantage  of  my  weak  nerves.  You  must  see  that  I 
am  greatly  reduced  by  illness,  and  I  merely  wish  to  take  a 
little  tonic  as  any  sane  man  would  do,  and  you  treat  me  to 
a  scene  of  high  tragedy.  Give  me  my  medicine,  and  I 
know  that  I  shall  soon  be  much  better." 

"  Oh,  my  husband,  has  it  really  come  to  this?"  and  the 
wretched  wife  buried  her  face  in  her  arms,  and  leaned  heavily 
on  the  table. 

He  was  growing  desperate.  Through  excess  he  had  al 
ready  reached  a  point  where  oidinary  life  became  an  un- 
endurable  burden  without  the  stimulant  ;  but  facing  a  har 
rowing  scene  like  this  was  impossible.  He  felt  that  his  ap 
petite  was  like  a  savage  beast  on  which  he  held  a  weakening 
and  relaxing  grasp.  With  the  strange,  double  consciousness 
of  the  opium  maniac,  he  saw  his  wife  in  all  her  deep  distress, 
and  he  had  the  remorse  of  a  lost  soul  in  view  of  her  agony ; 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  329 

he  was  almost  certain  that  she  knew  how  he  had  wronged  her 
and  his  children,  and  he  had  all  the  shame  and  self-loathing 
of  a  proud,  sensitive  man  ;  he  knew  that  he  was  false  to  the 
sacred  trusts  of  husband  and  father,  and  that  awful  thing  we 
call  a  sense  of  guilt  added  its  deep  depression.  It  is  not  in 
ability  to  comprehend  his  degradation,  his  danger,  his  utter 
loss  of  manhood,  which  opium  imposes  on  its  wretched  slave, 
but  an  impossibility  to  do  aught  except  gratify  the  resistless 
craving  at  any  and  every  cost  All  will-power  has  gone,  all 
moral  resistance  has  departed,  and  in  its  place  is  a  gnawing, 
clamorous,  ravening  desire.  The  vitiated  body,  full  of  inde 
scribable  and  mysterious  pain,  the  still  more  tortured  mind, 
sinking  under  a  burden  of  remorse,  guilt,  fear,  and  awful  im 
agery,  both  unite  in  one  desperate,  incessant  demand  for 
opium. 

While  his  wife  sat  leaning  upon  the  table,  her  face  hidden, 
she  was  the  picture  of  despair  ;  and,  in  truth,  she  felt  almost 
as  if  she  were  turning  into  stone.  If  her  husband  had  been 
brought  home  a  mangled,  mutilated  man,  as  she  often  feared 
he  might  be  during  the  long  years  of  the  war,  she  would  have 
bent  over  him  with  a  tenderness  equalled  only  by  the  pride 
and  faith  that  had  ever  found  in  him  their  centre  ;  but  this 
strange  apparition  of  a  man  with  odd,  sinister-looking 
eyes,  who  alternately  threatened  and  cowered  before  her — 
this  man,  mutilated  more  horribly  in  the  loss  of  truth  and 
love,  who  was  thus  openly  and  shamelessly  lying — oh,  was 
he  the  chivalric,  noble  friend,  who  had  been  lover  and  hus 
band  for  so  many  years  !  The  contrast  was  intolerable,  and 
the  sense  of  his  falseness  stung  her  almost  to  madness.  She 
did  not  yet  know  that  opium,  like  the  corruption  of  the 
grave,  blackens  that  which  is  the  fairest  and  whitest 

For  a  few  minutes  Mr.  Jocelyn  debated  with  himself. 
Was  he  strong  enough  to  go  out  to  the  nearest  drug-store  ? 
After  one  or  two  turns  up  and  down  the  room  he  found 


33°  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

that  he  was  not.  He  might  fall  in  utter  collapse  while  on 
the  way,  and  yet  his  system,  depleted  by  his  recent  excess, 
demanded  the  drug  with  an  intensity  which  he  could  not  re 
strain  much  longer  without  becoming  wild  and  reckless. 
He  therefore  said  to  his  wife,  in  a  dogged  manner,  ' '  Nan,  I 
must  have  that  medicine. ' ' 

The  gentle  creature  was  at  last  goaded  into  such  a  burst  of 
indignation  that  for  a  few  moments  he  was  appalled,  and 
trembled  before  her.  The  fire  in  her  blue  eyes  seemed  to 
scorch  away  her  tears,  and  standing  before  him  she  said  pas 
sionately,  "  As  you  are  a  man  and  a  Southern  gentleman, 
tell  me  the  truth.  I  never  concealed  a  thought  from  you  ; 
what  have  you  been  concealing  from  us  for  weeks  and 
months  ?  I  wronged  you  in  that  I  did  not  think  and  plan 
day  and  night  how  to  save  instead  of  how  to  spend,  and  I 
can  never  forgive  myself,  but  my  fault  was  not  deliberate,  not 
intentional.  There  was  never  a  moment  when  I  tried  to 
deceive  you — never  a  moment  when  I  would  not  have  suffer 
ed  hunger  and  cold  that  you  and  the  children  might  be 
warmed  and  fed.  What  is  this  tonic  for  which  you  are  bar 
tering  your  health,  your  honor  and  ours,  your  children's 
bread  and  blood?  Mildred  sold  her  girlhood's  gifts,  the 
few  dear  mementoes  of  the  old  happy  days,  that  you  might 
have  the  chance  you  craved.  That  money  was  as  sacred  as 
the  mercy  of  God.  For  weeks  the  poor  child  has  earned 
her  bread,  not  by  the  sweat  of  her  face,  but  in  agony  of 
body  and  unhappiness  of  heart.  If  it  were  disease  that  had 
so  cast  us  down  and  shadowed  our  lives  with  fear,  pain,  and 
poverty,  we  would  have  submitted  to  God' swill  and  watched 
over  you  with  a  patient  tenderness  that  would  never  have 
faltered  or  murmured  ;  but  it' snot  disease,  it's  notsomething 
that  God  sent.  It  is  that  which  crimsons  our  faces  with  shame. 

He  sat  cowering  and  trembling  before  her,  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands. 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  331 

In  a  sudden  revulsion  of  tenderness  she  sank  again  on  her 
knees  before  him,  and  pleaded  in  tones  of  tenderest  pathos  : 
"  Martin,  I  know  all  ;  but  I  am  ready  to  forgive  all  if  you 
will  be  true  from  this  time  forward.  I  know  now  the  cause 
of  all  your  strange  moods  which  we  attributed  to  ill-health  ; 
I  know  the  worst  ;  but  if,  in  humble  reliance  upon  God, 
you  will  win  back  your  manhood,  the  past  evil  days  shall  be 
blotted  out,  even  as  God  blots  out  our  sins  and  remembers 
them  no  more  against  us.  We  will  sustain  your  every  effort 
with  sympathy  and  loving  faith.  We  will  smile  at  cold  and 
hunger  that  you  may  have  time — Great  God  !''  and  she 
sprang  to  her  leet,  white,  faint,  and  panting. 

Her  husband  had  taken  his  hands  from  his  face,  and  glared 
at  her  like  a  famished  wolf.  In  his  desperate,  unnatural 
visage  there  was  not  a  trace  of  manhood  left. 

"  Give  me  the  bottle  of  morphia  you  took  from  my 
pocket,"  he  demanded,  rising  threateningly.  "  No  words  ; 
you  might  as  well  read  the  Ten  Commandments  to  an  un 
chained  tiger.  Give  it  to  me,  or  there  is  no  telling  what  may 
happen.  You  talk  as  if  I  could  stop  by  simply  saying,  coolly 
and  quietly,  I  will  stop.  Ten  thousand  devils  !  haven't  I 
suffered  the  torments  of  the  damned  in  trying  to  stop  !  Was 
I  not  in  hell  for  a  week  when  I  could  not  get  it  ?  Do  you 
think  I  ask  for  it  now  as  a  child  wants  candy  ?  No,  it's  the 
drop  of  water  that  will  cool  my  tongue  for  a  brief  moment, 
and  as  you  hope  for  mercy  or  have  a  grain  of  mercy  in  your 
nature,  give  it  to  me  now,  now,  NOW  !" 

The  poor  wife  tottered  a  step  or  two  toward  her  daughter's 
room,  and  fell  swooning  at  the  threshold.  Mildred  opened 
the  door,  and  her  deep  pallor  showed  that  instead  of  sleeping 
she  had  heard  words  that  would  leave  scars  on  memory  until 
her  dying  day. 

"  The  poison  you  demand  is  there,"  she  said  broken 
ly,  pointing  to  her  bureau.  "  After  mamma's  appeal 


33 2  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

I   need   not,    cannot  speak,"    and   she  knelt  beside  hei 
mother. 

Her  father  rushed  forward  and  seized  the  drug  with  the  as- 
pect  of  one  who  is  famishing.  Mildred  shuddered,  and  would 
not  see  more  than  she  could  not  help,  but  gave  her  whole 
thought  and  effort  to  her  mother,  who  seemed  wounded  unto 
death.  After  a  few  moments,  to  her  unbounded  surprise, 
her  father  knelt  beside  her  and  lifted  her  mother  to  a  lounge, 
and,  with  a  steady  hand  and  a  gentle,  considerate  manner, 
sought  to  aid  in  her  restoration.  His  face  was  full  of  solici 
tude  and  anxiety — indeed  he  looked  almost  the  same  as  he 
might  have  looked  and  acted  a  year  ago,  before  he  had  ever 
imagined  that  such  a  demon  would  possess  him. 

When  at  last  Mrs.  Jocelyn  revived  and  recalled  what  had 
occurred,  she  passed  into  a  condition  of  almost  hysterical 
grief,  for  her  nervous  system  was  all  unstrung.  Mr.  Jocelyn, 
meanwhile,  attended  upon  her  in  a  silent,  gentle,  self- 
possessed  manner  that  puzzled  Mildred  greatly,  although  she 
ascribed  it  to  the  stimulant  he  had  taken. 

After  a  few  minutes  a  strange  smile  flitted  across  his  face, 
and  he  disappeared  within  his  own  apartment.  A  little  later, 
Mildred,  returning  from  a  momentary  absence,  saw  him  with 
draw  his  syringe  from  the  arm  of  her  half-conscious  mother. 

"  What  have  you  done  ?"  she  asked  sternly,  and  hasten 
ing  to  his  side. 

Secreting  the  instrument  as  a  miser  would  his  gold,  he 
answered,  with  the  same  strange  smile,  "  She  shall  have  a 
merry  Christmas  yet  ;  I  have  just  remembered  the  day.  See 
how  quiet  she  is  becoming  ;  see  that  beautiful  flush  stealing 
into  her  pale  face  ;  see  the  light  dawning  in  her  eye.  Oh, 
I  gauged  the  dose  with  the  skill  of  the  best  of  them  ;  and 
see,  my  hand  is  as  steady  as  yours.  I'm  not  a  wreck  yet, 
and  all  may  still  be  well.  Come,  this  is  Christmas  night, 
and  we  will  keep  it  in  good  old  Southern  style.  Where  are 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC  S  CHRISTMAS.  333 

Belle  and  the  children  ?     Ah  !   here  they  are.     Where  have 
you  been,  Belle  ?" 

"  In  Mrs.  Wheaton's  room,"  she  replied,  looking  at  her 
father  in  much  surprise.  "  I  was  trying  to  keep  the  children 
quiet,  so  that  you,  mamma,  and  Millie  might  have  a  little 
rest. ' ' 

"  That  was  very  kind  and  good  of  you,  and  you  now  see 
that  I  am  much  better  ;  so  is  mamma,  and  with  your  help 
and  Mildred's  we  shall  have  a  merry  Christmas  night  together 
after  all." 

"  Papa  is  right,"  Mrs.  Jocelyn  added  with  vivacity.  "  I 
do  feel  much  better,  and  so  strangely  hopeful.  Come  here, 
Belle.  I've  scarcely  seen  you  and  the  children  all  day. 
Kiss  me,  darlings.  I  believe  the  worst  is  now  past,  that 
papa  will  soon  be  well,  and  that  all  our  troubles  will  end  in 
renewed  prosperity  and  happiness.  I  have  been  looking  on 
the  dark  side,  and  it  was  wrong  in  me  to  do  so.  I  should 
have  had  more  faith,  more  hope,  more  thankfulness.  I 
should  bless  God  for  that  sight — Fred  and  Minnie  on  their 
father's  knees  as  in  old  times.  Oh,  what  a  strange,  bright 
turn  everything  has  taken. ' ' 

"  Mamma  dear,"  said  Belle,  who  was  kneeling  and 
caressing  her,  ' '  can  I  not  ask  Roger  in  to  set  you  ?  He  has 
looked  like  a  ghost  all  day,  from  anxiety  about  you." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,"  gasped  Mildred. 

"  Now,  Millie,"  began  Mrs.  Jocelyn  in  gentle  effusion, 
"  you  carry  your  prejudice  against  Roger  much  too  far.  He 
has  been  the  world  and  all  to  Belle  since  he  came  to  town. 
Belle  was  like  a  prisoned  bird,  and  he  gave  her  air  and  room 
to  fly  a  little,  and  always  brought  her  back  safe  to  the  nest. 
Think  of  his  kindness  last  night  (suddenly  she  put  her  hand 
to  her  brow  as  if  troubled  by  something  half  forgotten,  but 
her  serene  smile  returned).  Papa,  thanks  to  Roger's  kind 
ness,  is  here,  and  he  might  have  been  taken  to  a  hospital.  I 


334  WITHQUT  A   HOME. 

now  feel  assured  that  he  will  overcome  all  his  troubles. 
What  we  need  is  cheerfulness — the  absence  of  all  that  is  de 
pressing.  Roger  is  lonely  away  from  his  home  and  people, 
and  he  shall  share  our  Christmas  cheer  ;  so,  call  him,  Belle, 
and  then  you  and  Millie  prepare  as  nice  a  supper  as  you 
can  ;"  and  the  girl  flew  to  make  good  a  prospect  so  in  ac 
cordance  with  her  nature. 

Mildred  almost  as  precipitately  sought  her  room.  A 
moment  later  Roger  was  ushered  in,  and  he  could  scarcely 
believe  his  eyes.  The  unconscious  man,  whom  he  at  this 
time  on  the  previous  day  believed  dying,  had  his  children  on 
his  lap,  and  was  caressing  them  with  every  mark  of  affection. 
Although  he  still  appeared  to  be  very  much  of  an  invalid, 
and  his  complexion  had  a  sallow  and  unnatural  hue,  even  in 
the  lamplight,  it  was  difficult  to  believe  that  twenty-four 
hours  before  he  had  appeared  to  be  in  extremis.  When  he 
arose  and  greeted  Roger  with  a  courtesy  that  was  almost  fault 
less,  the  young  fellow  was  tempted  to  rub  his  eyes  as  if  all 
were  a  dream.  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  too,  was  full  of  cheerfulness 
and  hope,  and  made  him  sit  beside  her  while  she  thanked 
him  with  a  cordiality  and  friendliness  that  seemed  even  tinged 
with  affection.  If  memory  could  be  silenced  there  would  be 
nothing  to  dispel  the  illusion  that  he  looked  upon  an  hum- 
b'c  but  happy  home,  unshadowed  by  any  thought  of  danger 
or  trouble.  As  it  was,  the  illusion  was  so  strong  that  he  en 
tered  into  the  apparent  spirit  of  the  occasion,  and  he  chatted 
and  laughed  with  a  freedom  and  ease  he  had  never  yet  known 
in  their  presence. 

"Where  is  Millie?"  Mrs.  Jocelyn  suddenly  asked. 
"  We  must  be  all  together  on  this  happy  occasion.  Minnie, 
call  her,  for  I  do  not  wish  a  moment  of  this  long-deferred 
hour  marred  or  clouded." 

"  Millie,"  cried  the  child,  opening  the  door,  "  mamma 
wants  you  to  come  right  away.  We  are  having  a  lovely  time. ' ' 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  .335 

"  Don't  mind  Millie's  ways,"  said  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  touch 
ing  Roger's  arm  and  giving  him  a  little  confidential  nod. 
"  You  misunderstand  each  other." 

These  words,  with  her  manner,  struck  Roger  as  peculiar 
in  one  who  had  ever  seemed  to  him  the  embodiment  of  deli 
cacy,  but  he  was  too  inexperienced  to  gauge  them  properly. 
When  he  turned,  however,  to  bow  to  Mildred,  who  entered 
and  took  a  seat  in  a  distant  corner,  he  was  startled  by  her 
extreme  pallor,  but  acting  on  Mrs.  Jocelyn' s  advice  he  tried 
to  act  as  before,  resolving,  nevertheless,  that  if  his  presence 
continued  to  be  a  restraint  on  one  for  whom  he  was  ever 
ready  to  sacrifice  himself,  he  would  speedily  depart.  Belle 
was  radiant  in  her  reaction  from  the  long,  miserable  day, 
and,  with  a  child's  unconsciousness,  gave  herself  up  to  her 
happiness. 

"  Millie  shall  rest  as  well  as  yourself,  mamma,  for  she  was 
up  all  night,  and  I'll  get  supper  and  prove  what  a  housewife 
I  am.  Roger,  if  you  do  not  swallow  everything  I  prepare 
without  a  wry  face,  and,  indeed,  with  every  appearance  of 
relish,  I  shall  predict  for  you  the  most  miserable  old  bachelor 
hood  all  your  days. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  put  Roger's  gallantry  to  a  very 
severe  test,"  cried  Mrs.  Joceiyn  gayly.  "  Indeed,  I  fear  we 
have  not  very  much  for  supper  except  the  warmest  good-will. 
Our  poverty  now,  however,  will  not  last  long,  for  I  feel  that 
I  can  so  manage  hereafter  as  to  make  amends  for  all  the  past. 
I  can  see  that  I  am  the  one  who  has  been  to  blame  ;  but  all 
that  s  past,  and  with  my  clearer,  fuller  knowledge  and  larger 
opportunities  I  can  do  wonders." 

Roger  was  much  struck  by  the  peculiar  smile  with  which 
Mr.  Jocelyn  regarded  his  wife  as  she  uttered  these  words. 

"  Lemme  show  you  what  Aunty  Wheaton  gave  me  dis 
mornin',"  lisped  Fred,  pulling  Roger  up. 

As  he  rose  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Mildred's  face,  and  saw 


336  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

that  she  was  regarding  her  mother  and  father  in  undisguised 
horror.  Something  was  evidently  wrong — fearfully  wrong. 
There  was  a  skeleton  in  that  cheerful  lighted  room,  and  the 
girl  saw  it  plainly.  Never  would  he  forget  her  terrible  ex 
pression.  He  trembled  with  apprehension  as  he  stood  over 
the  child's  toy  and  tried  to  imagine  what  it  was  that  had  sud 
denly  filled  the  place  with  a  nameless  dread  and  foreboding. 
So  quick  and  strong  was  his  sympathy  for  Mildred,  so  un 
mistakable  had  been  the  expression  of  the  girl's  face,  that  he 
was  sure  something  must  soon  occur  which  would  explain 
her  fears. 

He  was  right,  for  at  this  moment  Dr.  Benton  knocked, 
entered,  and  took  the  chair  he  had  vacated.  The  physician 
looked  with  some  surprise  at  his  patient  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn' s 
flushed,  smiling  face.  As  he  felt  her  pulse  her  sleeve  fell 
back,  and  he  saw  the  ominous  little  red  scar,  and  then  he 
understood  it  all,  and  fixed  a  penetrating  glance  on  the  face 
of  her  husband,  who  would  not  meet  his  eye. 

"  I  have  done  you  wrong,  Dr.  Benton,"  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
began  volubly,  "  for  we  all  are  indebted  to  your  skill  that 
my  husband  is  so  much  better.  This  day,  which  promised 
to  pass  so  sadly,  has  a  bright  ending,  thanks  to  your  timely 
remedies.  We  are  once  more  a  united  household,  and  I  can 
never  thank  our  dear  young  friend  here,  IVIr.  Atwood, 
enough  that  he  discovered  my  husband  and  brought  him  to 
us  and  to  your  able  treatment.  Surely,  Millie,  your  preju 
dice  against  him  must  vanish  now,  for — " 

"  Mother,"  cried  Mildred,  "  if  you  have  a  grain  of  reason 
or  self-control  left,  close  your  lips.  Oh,  what  a  mockery  it 
all  is!" 

When  Belle  took  her  astonished  eyes  from  Mildred's  face, 
Roger,  who  stood  near  the  door,  was  gone. 

"  You  had  better  follow  your  daughter's  advice,  Mrs. 
Jocelyn, ' '  said  the  physician  quietly  and  soothingly,  ' '  you 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  337 

are  a  little  feverish,  and  I  prescribe  quiet.  May  I  sec  you 
alone  a  moment  or  two,  Mr.  Jocelyn  ?" 

"  Yes,  here  in  my  room,"  added  Mildred  eagerly. 

It  was  with  the  aspect  of  mingled  fear  and  haughtiness 
that  Mr.  Jocelyn  followed  Dr.  Benton  into  the  apartment, 
and  the  door  was  closed. 

"  Mother,  you  are  ill,"  said  Mildred,  kneeling  beside  her. 
"  For  my  sake,  for  yours,  pray  keep  quiet  for  a  while." 

"  111  !  I  never  felt  better  in  my  life.  It's  all  your  un 
reasonable  prejudice,  Millie." 

"  I  think  so  too,"  cried  Belle  indignantly.  "  We  were 
just  beginning  to  have  a  little  sunshine,  and  you  have  spoiled 
everything." 

' '  I  am  the  only  one  who  knows  the  truth,  and  I  shall  take 
the  responsibility  of  directing  our  affairs  for  the  next  few 
hours,"  replied  Mildred,  rising,  with  a  pale,  impassive  face. 
"  Belle,  my  course  has  nothing  to  do  with  Roger  Atwood.  I 
exceedingly  regret,  however,  that  he  has  been  present.  Wait 
till  you  hear  what  Dr.  Benton  says  ;"  and  there  was  something 
so  resolute  and  almost  stern  in  her  manner  that  even  Mrs. 
Jocelyn,  in  her  unnatural  exaltation,  yielded.  Indeed,  she 
was  already  becoming  drowsy  from  the  effects  of  the  narcotic. 

"  You  are  not  yourself,  mamma.  I'll  explain  all  to 
morrow,"  the  young  girl  added  soothingly. 

"  Mr.  Jocelyn,"  said  the  physician,  with  quiet  emphasis, 
41  you  have  injected  morphia  into  your  wife's  arm." 

' '  I  have  not. ' ' 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  understand  your  case  thoroughly,  and  so 
do  your  wife  and  daughter,  as  far  as  they  can  understand 
my  explanations.  Now  if  you  will  cease  your  mad  folly  I 
can  save  you,  I  think  ;  that  is,  if  you  will  submit  yourself 
absolutely  to  my  treatment." 

1 '  You  are  talking  riddles,  sir.  Our  poverty  does  not  war 
rant  any  assumption  on  your  part. ' ' 


338  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

"  I  know  the  insane  and  useless  instinct  of  those  in  your 
condition  to  hide  their  weakness  ;  but  can  you  not  control 
it,  and  permit  me  as  your  friend  and  physician  to  help  you  ? 
t  am  seeking  your  interests,  not  my  own." 

"  Curse  you  !"  cried  Mr.  Jocelyn,  in  a  burst  of  uncon 
trollable  anger,  ' '  if  you  had  been  my  friend  you  would  have 
let  me  die,  but  instead  you  have  said  things  to  my  wife  that 
have  blasted  me  forever  in  her  eyes.  If  she  had  not  known,  I 
could  have  made  the  effort  you  require  ;  but  now  I'm  a  lost 
man,  damned  beyond  remedy,  and  I'd  rather  see  the  devil 
himself  than  your  face  again.  These  are  my  rooms,  and  I 
demand  that  you  depart  and  never  appear  here  again. ' ' 

The  physician  bowed  coldly,  and  left  the  ill-fated  family  to 
itself. 

Mildred,  who  overheard  her  father's  concluding  words, 
felt  that  it  would  be  useless  then  to  interpose.  Indeed  she 
was  so  dispirited  and  exhausted  that  she  could  do  no  more 
than  stagger  under  the  heavy  burden  that  seemed  crushing 
her  very  soul. 

She  assisted  her  mother  to  retire,  and  the  latter  was  soon 
sleeping  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips.  Mr.  Jocelyn  sat  sul 
lenly  apart,  staring  out  into  the  bleak,  stormy  darkness, 
and  Mildred  left  him  lor  the  first  time  in  her  life  with 
out  giving  him  his  good-night  kiss.  As  she  realized  this 
truth,  she  sank  on  her  couch  and  sobbed  so  bitterly  that 
Belle,  who  had  been  meditating  reproaches,  looked  at  her 
with  tearful  wonder.  Suddenly  Mildred  arose  in  strong 
compunction,  and  rushed  back  to  her  father  ;  but  he  started 
up  with  such  a  desperate  look  that  she  recoiled. 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  he  cried.  "  Put  your  lips  to  the 
gutter  of  the  streets,  if  you  will,  but  not  to  such  pitch  and 
foulness  as  I  have  become. ' ' 

"  Oh,  papa,  have  mercy  !"  she  pleaded. 

"  Mercy !"    he   repeated,    with   a   laugh   that  froze   her 


AN  OPIUM  MANIAC'S  CHRISTMAS.  339 

blood,  "  there  is  no  mercy  on  earth  nor  in  heaven,"  and  he 
waved  her  away,  and  again  turned  his  face  to  the  outer  dark 
ness. 

"Millie,  oh,  Millie,  what  is  the  matter?"  cried  Belle, 
shocked  at  her  sister's  horror-stricken  face. 

' '  Oh,  Belle,  is  there  any  good  God  ?' ' 

"  Millie,  I'm  bewildered.  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  The 
evening  that  began  so  brightly  seems  ending  in  tragedy. ' ' 

"  Yes,  tragedy  in  bitter  truth.  Hope  is  murdered,  life 
poisoned,  hearts  made  to  bleed  from  wounds  that  can  never 
heal.  Belle,  papa  loves  opium  better  than  he  does  you  or 
me,  better  than  his  wife  and  little  helpless  children,  better 
than  heaven  and  his  own  soul.  Would  to  God  I  had  never 
lived  to  see  this  day  !" 


34°  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

A    BLACK    CONSPIRACY. 

ON  the  following  morning  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  ill  and  much 
depressed  from  the  reaction  of  the  drug  that  had  been 
given  without  her  knowledge,  and  after  learning  all  that  had 
transpired  she  sank  into  an  almost  hopeless  apathy.  Mil 
dred  also  was  unable  to  rise,  and  Belle  went  to  their  respec 
tive  employers  and  obtained  a  leave  of  absence  for  a  day  or 
two,  on  the  ground  of  illness  in  the  family.  Mrs.  Wheaton 
now  proved  herself  a  discreet  and  very  helpful  friend,  show 
ing  her  interest  by  kindly  deeds  and  not  by  embarrassing 
quesaons.  Indeed  she  was  so  well  aware  of  the  nature  of 
the  affliction  that  overwhelmed  the  family  that  she  was  pos 
sessed  by  the  most  dismal  forebodings  as  well  as  the  deepest 
sympathy. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  had  departed  at  an  early  hour,  leaving  a  note 
wherein  he  stated  that  he  might  be  absent  some  days  seeking 
employment  in  a  neighboring  city.  He  had  felt  that  it 
would  be  impossible  to  meet  his  family  immediately  after  the 
experiences  of  the  previous  day.  Indeed  he  had  gone  away 
with  the  desperate  resolve  that  he  would  break  his  habit  or 
never  return  ;  but  alas  for  the  resolves  of  an  opium  slave  ! 

Time  dragged  heavily  on,  the  family  living  under  a  night 
mare  of  anxiety,  fear,  and  horrible  conjectures.  What 
might  he  not  do  ?  What  new  phase  of  the  tragedy  would 
hereafter  be  developed  ? 

Now  that  the  busy  season  was  over,  the  girls  found  that 
they  could  retain  their  position  as  saleswomen  only  by  ac- 


A  BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  3|i 

cepting  whatever  their  employers  chose  to  pay,  and  the  thrifty 
shopkeepers  satisfied  their  consciences  with  the  thought  that 
they  could  obtain  scores  of  others  at  even  lower  prices.  Mr. 
Schriven,  in  the  multiplicity  of  other  interests,  had  almost 
forgotten  Belle,  and  she  had  become  in  his  mind  merely  a 
part  of  the  establishment  Her  dejected  face  and  subdued 
manner  excited  some  remark  among  her  companions  when 
she  again  appeared,  but  her  explanation,  "  Mother  is  ill," 
quieted  all  curiosity. 

For  a  few  days  Mildred  looked  as  white  and  crushed  as  a 
broken  lily,  and  then  the  reserve  strength  and  courage  of  the 
girl  began  to  reassert  themselves.  With  a  fortitude  that  was 
as  heroic  as  it  was  simple  and  unostentatious,  she  resolutely 
faced  the  truth  and  resolved  to  do  each  day's  duty,  leaving 
the  result  in  God's  hands.  With  a  miser's  care  she  hus 
banded  her  strength,  ate  the  most  nourishing  food  they  could 
afford,  and  rested  every  moment  her  duties  permitted.  The 
economy  they  were  now  compelled  to  practise  amounted 
almost  to  daily  privation.  Belle  and  the  children  were  often 
a  little  petulant  over  this  change,  Mrs.  Jocelyn  apathetic,  but 
Mildred  was  inflexible.  "  We  must  not  run  in  debt  one 
penny,"  she  would  often  remark  with  compressed  lips. 

Although  frequently  unoccupied  at  the  shop,  she  was 
nevertheless  compelled  to  stand,  and  in  spite  of  this  cruel  re 
quirement  she  rallied  slowly.  Thanks,  however,  to  her  wise 
carefulness,  she  did  gain  steadily  in  her  power  to  endure  and 
to  fight  the  hard  battle  of  life. 

One  of  the  saddest  features  of  their  trouble  was  the 
necessity  of  reticence  and  of  suffering  in  silence.  Their 
proud,  sensitive  spirits  did  not  permit  them  to  speak  of  their 
shame  even  to  Mrs.  Wheaton,  and  she  respected  their  re 
serve.  Indeed,  among  themselves  they  shrank  from  men 
tioning  the  sorrrow  that  oppressed  every  waking  moment  and 
filled  their  dreams  with  woeful  imagery. 


342  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

During  an  absence  of  nearly  two  weeks  Mr.  Jocelyn  occa 
sionally  wrote  a  line,  saying  that  he  was  as  well  as  they  could 
expect,  and  that  was  all.  Then  he  reappeared  among  them 
and  began  leading  a  desultory  kind  of  life,  coming  and  going 
in  an  aimless  way,  and  giving  but  little  account  of  himself. 
They  saw  with  a  deeper  depression  that  he  had  not  improved 
much,  although  apparently  he  had  avoided  any  great  ex 
cesses.  Occasionally  he  gave  Mildred  a  little  money,  but 
how  it  was  obtained  she  did  not  know.  It  was  well  he  was 
reticent,  for  had  she  known  that  it  was  often  part  of  a  small 
loan  from  some  half-pitying  friend  of  former  days,  and  that 
it  would  never  be  repaid,  she  would  not  have  used  a  penny 
of  it.  They  were  simply  compelled  to  recognize  the  awful 
truth,  that  the  husband  and  father  was  apparently  a  confirmed 
opium  inebriate.  At  first  they  pleaded  with  him  again  and 
again,  unable  to  understand  how  it  was  possible  for  him  to 
continue  in  so  fatal  a  course,  but  at  last  they  despairingly 
desisted.  He  would  at  times  weep  almost  hysterically,  over 
whelmed  with  remorse,  and  again  storm  in  reckless  anger 
and  unreasoning  fury.  As  in  thousands  of  other  homes 
wherein  manhood  and  honor  have  been  destroyed,  they 
found  no  better  resource  than  silent  endurance.  Under  such 
inflictions  resignation  is  impossible.  For  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and 
Mildred  it  was  simply  a  daily  martyrdom,  but  in  her 
companionship  with  Roger,  Belle  had  much  to  sustain, 
cheer,  and  even  brighten  her  life. 

He  was  in  truth  a  loyal  friend,  and  daily  racked  his  brain 
for  opportunities  to  show  her  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  some  reassur^ 
ing  attention  ;  and  his  kindness  and  that  of  Mrs.  Wheaton 
were  about  the  only  glints  of  light  upon  their  darkening  way. 
Mildred  was  polite  and  even  kind  in  her  manner  toward  the 
young  man,  since  for  Belle's  sake  and  her  mother's  she  felt 
that  she  must  be  so.  His  course,  moreover,  had  compelled 
her  respect ;  but  nevertheless  her  shrinking  aversion  did  not 


A   BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  343 

diminish.  The  fact  that  an  evil  destiny  had  seemingly  de 
stroyed  her  hope  of  ever  looking  into  the  face  of  Vinton 
Arnold  again  made  the  revolt  of  her  heart  all  the  more  bitter 
against  an  unwelcome  love  of  which  she  was  ever  conscious 
when  Roger  was  present.  But  he  had  won  her  entire  re 
spect  ;  he  knew  so  much,  and  he  worked  on  and  waited. 
The  grasp  of  his  mind  upon  his  studies  daily  grew  more 
masterful,  and  his  industry  and  persistence  were  so  steady 
that  the  old  commission  merchant  began  to  nod  to  himself 
approvingly. 

The  current  of  time  flowed  sluggishly  on,  bringing  only 
changes  for  the  worse  to  the  Jocelyns.  Early  spring  had 
come,  but  no  spring-tide  hope,  and  in  its  stead  a  bitter 
humiliation.  The  pressure  of  poverty  at  last  became  so 
great  that  the  Jocelyns  were  in  arrears  for  rent  and  were  com 
pelled  to  move.  In  this  painful  ordeal  Mrs.  Wheaton  was  a 
tower  of  strength,  and  managed  almost  everything  for  them, 
since  no  dependence  could  be  placed  on  Mr.  Jocelyn.  The 
reader's  attention  need  not  be  detained  by  a  description  of 
their  new  shelter — for  it  could  not  be  called  a  home.  They 
had  a  living-room  and  two  very  small  bedrooms  in  a  brick 
tenement  wedged  in  among  others  of  like  unredeemed  angu 
larity,  and  belonging  to  the  semi-respectable,  commonplace 
order.  It  was  occupied  by  stolid  working-people  of  various 
nationalities,  and  all  engaged  in  an  honest  scramble  for  bread, 
with  time  and  thought  for  little  else.  The  house  was  sim 
ply  a  modern,  cheap  shelter,  built  barely  within  the  require 
ments  of  the  law,  and,  from  its  newness,  unsoiled  as  yet  with 
the  grime  of  innumerable  crowded  families.  Everything 
was  slight,  thin,  and  money-saving  in  the  architecture  ;  and 
if  a  child  cried,  a  shrill- tongued  woman  vociferated,  or  a 
laborer,  angry  or  drunk,  indulged  in  the  general  habit  of 
profanity,  all  the  other  inmates  of  the  abode  were  at  once 
aware  of  the  fact.  By  the  majority,  such  sounds  were  no 


WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

more  heeded  than  the  rumble  in  the  streets,  but  to  poor 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred,  with  natures  like  ^Eolian  harps, 
the  discords  of  such  coarse,  crowded  life  were  often  horrible. 
There  was  naught  to  do  but  exist  from  day  to  day,  to  win 
what  bread  they  could  wherewith  to  sustain  a  life  that  seemed 
to  promise  less  and  less.  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  steadily  sinking, 
and  Belle,  at  last,  growing  bitter  and  restless  under  the  priva 
tions  of  her  lot,  in  spite  of  Roger's  unfaltering  friendship. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  was  not  one  who  could  sin  in  a  conservative, 
prudent  way.  He  seemed  utterly  unable  to  rally  and  be  a 
man  in  his  own  strength,  and  his  remorse  over  his  conduct 
was  so  great  that  he  sought  a  refuge  in  almost  continuous 
excess.  The  greater  the  height,  the  more  tremendous  the 
fall,  and  he  had  now  reached  the  recklessness  of  despair. 
He  had  many  stolid,  slouching  neighbors  in  the  tenements, 
who  permitted  life  to  be  at  least  endurable  for  their  families 
because  of  the  intervals  between  their  excesses  ;  but  an  in 
terval  to  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  a  foretaste  of  perdition.  Never 
theless,  if  the  wretched  man,  by  a  kindly  violence,  could 
have  been  shut  up  and  away  for  weeks,  perhaps  months, 
from  all  possibility  of  obtaining  the  poisons  that  were  destroy 
ing  him,  and  treated  with  scientific  skill,  he  might  have  been 
saved  even  at  this  late  hour.  When  the  world  recognizes  that 
certain  vices  sooner  or  later  pass  from  the  character  of  volun 
tary  evil  into  the  phase  of  involuntary  disease,  and  should 
be  treated  rigorously  and  radically  under  the  latter  aspect, 
many  lives  and  homes  will  be  saved  from  final  wreck. 

No  principles  are  better  known  than  the  influences  of  soil, 
climate,  darkness,  and  light  upon  a  growing  plant.  If  the 
truth  could  be  appreciated  that  circumstances  color  life  and 
character  just  as  surely,  marring,  distorting,  dwarfing,  or 
beautifying  and  developing,  according  as  they  are  friendly  or 
adverse,  the  workers  in  the  moral  vineyard,  instead  of  trying 
to  obtain  fruit  from  sickly  vines,  whose  roots  grope  in 


A  BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  345 

sterility,  and  whose  foliage  is  poisoned,  would  bring  the  rich 
ness  of  opportunity  to  the  soil  and  purify  the  social  atmos 
phere.  Immature  Belle,  in  spite  of  all  the  influences  for 
good  from  her  mother,  her  sister,  and  Roger,  could  scarcely 
reside  where  she  did  and  grow  pure  and  womanly.  She  was 
daily  compelled  to  see  and  hear  too  much  that  was  coarse, 
evil,  and  debasing. 

She  knew  that  Roger  was  a  friend,  and  nothing  more — that 
his  whole  heart  was  absorbed  in  Mildred — and  her  feminine 
nature,  stimulated  by  the  peculiarities  of  her  lot,  craved 
warmer  attentions.  In  her  impoverished  condition,  and  with 
her  father's  character  becoming  generally  known,  such  atten 
tions  would  not  naturally  come  from  young  men  whom  those 
who  loved  her  best  could  welcome.  She  was  growing  restless 
under  restrictions,  and  her  crowded,  half-sheltered  life  was 
robbing  her  of  womanly  reserve.  These  undermining  influ 
ences  worked  slowly,  imperceptibly,  but  none  the  less  cer 
tainly,  and  she  recognized  the  bold,  evil  admiration  which 
followed  her  more  and  more  unshrinkingly. 

Mr.  Jocelyn's  condition  was  no  longer  a  secret,  and  he 
often,  in  common  with  other  confirmed  habitue's,  increased 
the  effects  of  opium  by  a  free  use  of  liquor.  He  therefore 
had  practically  ceased  to  be  a  protector  to  his  daughters. 
Fred  and  Minnie,  in  spite  of  all  the  broken-hearted  and  fail 
ing  mother  could  do,  were  becoming  little  street  Arabs, 
learning  all  too  soon  the  evil  of  the  world. 

Since  the  revelation  of  her  father's  condition  Mildred  had 
finally  relinquished  her  class  at  the  mission  chapel.  Her 
sensitive  spirit  was  so  shadowed  by  his  evil  that  she  felt  she 
would  be  speechless  before  children  who  might  soon  learn  to 
associate  her  name  with  a  vice  that  would  seem  to  them  as 
horrible  as  it  was  mysterious.  Bread  and  shelter  she  must 
obtain,  but  she  was  too  fear-haunted,  too  conscious  of  the 


346  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

shame  to  which  she  was  linked,  to  face  the  public  on  any 
occasion  not  connected  with  her  daily  toil. 

The  pride  characteristic  of  American  people  who  have 
lapsed  from  a  better  condition  was  intensified  by  her  South 
ern  birth  and  prejudices.  More  than  hunger,  cold,  and  even 
death,  she  feared  being  recognized,  pointed  out,  stared  at,  and 
gossiped  about,  while  the  thought  of  receiving  charity 
brought  an  almost  desperate  look  into  her  usually  clear  blue 
eyes.  Therefore  she  shrank  from  even  Mr.  Wentworth,  and 
was  reticent  on  all  topics  relating  to  their  domestic  affairs. 
She  knew  that  there  were  many  families  whom  he  was  almost 
sustaining  through  crises  of  illness  and  privation  ;  she  also 
knew  that  there  were  far  more  who  sought  to  trade  upon  his 
sympathies.  While  she  could  take  aid  from  him  as  readily 
as  from  any  one,  she  also  believed  that  before  she  could  re 
ceive  it  she  must  be  frank  concerning  her  father.  Rather 
than  talk  of  his  shame,  even  to  her  pastor,  it  might  well  be 
believed  that  the  girl  would  starve.  What  she  might  do  for 
the  sake  of  the  others  was  another  question. 

Mr.  Wentworth  in  sadness  recognized  the  barrier  which 
Mildred's  pride  was  rearing  between  them,  but  he  was  too 
wise  and  experienced  to  be  obtrusively  personal.  He  sought 
earnestly,  however,  to  guard  the  young  girl  against  the  moral 
danger  which  so  often  results  from  discouragement  and  un- 
happiness,  and  he  entreated  her  not  to  part  with  her  faith, 
her  clinging  trust  in  God. 

"  A  clinging  trust  is,  indeed,  all  that  I  have  left,"  she  had 
replied  so  sadly  that  his  eyes  suddenly  moistened  ;  ' '  but  the 
waves  of  trouble  seem  strong  and  pitiless,  and  I  sometimes 
fear  that  my  hands  are  growing  numb  and  powerless.  In 
plain  prose,  I'm  just  plodding  on — God  knows  whither.  In 
my  weary,  faltering  way  I  am  trying  to  trust  Him,"  she 
added,  after  a  brief  silence,  ' '  and  I  always  hope  to  ;  but  I 
am  so  tired,  Mr.  Wentworth,  so  depressed,  that  I'm  like  the 


A  BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  347 

soldiers  that  have  been  described  to  me  as  marching  on  with 
heavy  eyes  and  heavy  feet  because  they  must.  There  is  no 
use  in  my  coming  to  the  chapel,  for  I  haven't  the  heart  to 
say  a  word  of  cheer  to  any  one,  and  hollow  words  would 
hurt  me,  while  doing  no  good.  I  am  trying  your  charity 
sorely,  but  I  can't  help  it.  I  fear  you  cannot  understand 
me,  for  even  your  Christian  sympathy  is  a  burden.  I'm  too 
tired,  too  sorely  wounded  to  make  any  response  ;  while  all 
the  time  I  feel  that  I  ought  to  respond  gratefully  and  ear 
nestly.  It  seems  a  harsh  and  unnatural  thing  to  say,  but  my 
chief  wish  is  to  shrink  away  from  everybody  and  everything 
not  essential  to  my  daily  work.  I  think  I  shall  have  strength 
enough  to  keep  up  a  mechanical  routine  of  life  for  a  long 
time,  but  you  must  not  ask  me  to  think  or  give  way  to  feel 
ing,  much  less  to  talk  about  myself  and — and — the  others. 
If  I  should  lose  this  stolid  self-control  which  I  am  gaining, 
and  which  enables  me  to  plod  along  day  by  day  with  my 
eyes  shut  to  what  may  be  on  the  morrow,  I  believe  I  should 
become  helpless  from  despair  and  grief." 

"  My  dear  child,"  the  clergyman  had  replied,  in  deep 
solicitude,  "  I  fear  you  are  dangerously  morbid  ;  and  yet  I 
don't  know.  This  approach  to  apathy  of  which  you  speak 
may  be  God's  shield  from  thoughts  that  would  be  sharp 
arrows.  I  can' t  help  my  honest  sympathy,  and  I  hope  and 
trust  that  I  may  soon  be  able  to  show  it  in  some  helpful  way 
— I  mean  in  the  way  of  finding  you  more  remunerative  and 
less  cruel  work,"  he  added  quickly,  as  he  saw  a  faint  flush 
rising  in  the  young  girl's  face.  Then  he  concluded,  gravely 
and  gently,  ' '  Miss  Mildred,  I  respect  you — I  respect  even 
your  pride  ;  but,  in  the  name  of  our  common  faith  and  the 
bonds  it  implies,  do  not  carry  it  too  far.  Good-by.  Come 
to  me  whenever  you  need,  or  your  conscience  suggests  my 
name, ' '  and  the  good  man  went  away  wholly  bent  on  obtain 
ing  some  better  employment  for  Mildred  ;  and  he  made  not 


348  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

a  little  effort  to  do  so,  only  to  find  every  avenue  of  labor 
suited  to  the  girl's  capacity  already  thronged.  Meanwhile 
the  needs  and  sorrows  of  others  absorbed  his  time  and 
thoughts. 

Belle,  because  of  her  thorough  liking  and  respect  for  Mr. 
Wentworth,  and  even  more  for  the  reason  that  he  had  ob 
tained  her  promise  to  come,  was  rarely  absent  from  her  class, 
and  the  hour  spent  at  the  chapel  undoubtedly  had  a  good 
and  restraining  influence  ;  but  over  and  against  this  one  or 
two  hours  in  seven  days  were  pitted  the  moral  atmosphere  oj 
the  shop,  the  bold  admiration  and  advances  in  the  streets, 
which  were  no  longer  unheeded  and  were  scarcely  resented, 
and  the  demoralizing  sights  and  sounds  of  a  tenement-house. 
The  odds  were  too  great  for  poor  Belle.  Like  thousands  of 
other  girls,  she  stood  in  peculiar  need  of  sheltered  home  life, 
and  charity  broad  as  heaven  should  be  exercised  toward  those 
exposed  as  she  was. 

As  Mr.  Jocelyn  sank  deeper  in  degradation,  Mildred's 
morbid  impulse  to  shrink,  cower,  and  hide,  in  such  poor  shel 
ter  as  she  had,  grew  stronger,  and  at  last  she  did  little  more 
than  try  to  sleep  through  the  long,  dreary  Sabbaths,  that  she 
might  have  strength  for  the  almost  hopeless  struggle  of  the 
week.  She  was  unconsciously  drifting  into  a  hard,  apathetic 
materialism,  in  which  it  was  her  chief  effort  not  to  think  or 
remember — from  the  future  she  recoiled  in  terror — but  sim 
ply  to  try  to  maintain  her  physical  power  to  meet  the  daily 
strain. 

It  is  a  sad  and  terrible  characteristic  of  our  Christian  city, 
that  girls,  young,  beautiful,  and  unprotected  like  Mildred  and 
Belle,  are  the  natural  prey  of  remorseless  huntsmen.  Only 
a  resolute  integrity,  great  prudence  and  care,  can  shield 
them  ;  and  these  not  from  temptation  and  evil  pursuit,  but 
only  from  the  fall  which  such  snares  too  often  compass. 

Of  these  truths  Mildred  had  a  terrible  proof.     A  purer- 


A  BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  349 

hearted  girl  than  she  never  entered  the  maelstrom  of  city 
life  ;  but  those  who  looked  upon  her  lovely  face  looked 
again,  and  lingeringly,  and  there  was  one  who  had  devoured 
her  beauty  daily  with  wolfish  eyes.  In  charge  of  the  de 
partment  of  the  shop  wherein  she  toiled,  there  was  a  man 
who  had  long  since  parted  with  the  faintest  trace  of  principle 
or  conscience.  He  was  plausible,  fine-looking,  after  a  cer 
tain  half-feminine  type,  and  apparently  vigilant  and  faithful 
in  his  duties  as  a  floor-walker  ;  but  his  spotless  linen  con 
cealed  a  heart  that  plotted  all  the  evil  his  hands  dared  to 
commit.  For  him  Mildred  had  possessed  great  attractions 
from  the  first ;  and,  with  the  confidence  bestowed  by  his 
power,  and  many  questionable  successes,  he  made  his  first 
advances  so  openly  that  he  received  more  than  one  public 
and  stinging  rebuff.  A  desire  for  revenge,  therefore,  had 
taken  entire  possession  of  him,  and  with  a  serpent's  cold, 
deadly  patience  he  was  waiting  for  a  chance  to  uncoil  and 
strike.  Notwithstanding  his  outward  civility,  Mildred  never 
met  the  expression  of  his  eyes  without  a  shudder. 

From  frank-tongued  Belle,  Roger  had  obtained  some  hints 
of  this  man' s  earlier  attentions,  and  of  his  present  ill-concealed 
dislike — a  latent  hostility  which  gave  Mildred  no  little  un 
easiness,  since,  by  some  pretext,  he  might  cause  her  dis 
missal.  She  knew  too  well  that  they  were  in  such  straits 
now  that  they  could  not  afford  one  hour's  idleness.  Roger 
therefore  nursed  a  bitter  antipathy  against  the  fellow. 

One  evening,  late  in  March,  the  former  was  taking  his 
usual  brief  walk  before  sitting  down  to  long  hours  of  study. 
He  was  at  liberty  to  go  whither  he  pleased,  and  not  un 
naturally  his  steps,  for  the  hundredth  time,  perhaps,  passed 
the  door  through  which  he  could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
young  girl,  who,  with  apparent  hopelessness,  and  yet  with 
such  pathetic  patience,  was  fighting  a  long  battle  with  dis- 
heartening  adversity.  He  was  later  than  usual,  and  the  em- 


35°  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

ployes  were  beginning  to  leave.  Suddenly  the  obnoxious 
floor-walker  appeared  at  the  entrance  with  a  hurried  and  in 
tent  manner.  Then  he  paused  a  second  or  two  and  con 
cealed  himself  behind  a  show-case.  Roger  now  saw  that  his 
eyes  were  fixed  on  a  girl  who  had  just  preceded  him,  and 
who,  after  a  furtive  glance  backward,  hastened  up  the  ave 
nue.  Her  pursuer — for  such  he  evidently  was — followed 
instantly,  and  yet  sought  to  lose  himself  in  the  crowd  so  that 
she  could  not  detect  him.  Partly  in  the  hope  of  learning 
something  to  the  disadvantage  of  one  who  might  have  it  in 
his  power  to  injure  Mildred,  and  partly  from  the  motive  of 
adding  zest  to  an  aimless  walk,  Roger  followed  the  man. 

The  girl,  with  another  quick  glance  over  her  shoulder,  at 
last  turned  down  a  side  street,  and  was  soon  walking  alone 
where  passengers  were  few  and  the  street  much  in  shadow  ; 
here  her  pursuer  joined  her,  and  she  soon  evinced  violent 
agitation,  stopping  suddenly  with  a  gesture  of  indignant  pro 
test.  He  said  something,  however,  that  subdued  her  speed 
ily,  and  they  went  on  together  for  some  little  distance,  flie 
man  talking  rapidly,  and  then  they  turned  into  a  long,  dark 
passage  that  led  to  some  tenements  in  the  rear  of  those  front 
ing  on  the  street.  About  midway  in  this  narrow  alley  a 
single  gas-jet  burned,  and  under  its  light  Roger  saw  them 
stop,  and  the  girl  produce  from  beneath  her  waterproof  cloak 
something  white,  that  appeared  like  pieces  of  wound  lace. 
The  man  examined  them,  made  a  memorandum,  and  then 
handed  them  back  to  the  girl,  who  hesitated  to  take  them  ; 
but  his  manner  was  so  threatening  and  imperious  that  she 
again  concealed  them  on  her  person.  As  they  came  out 
together,  Roger,  with  hat  drawn  over  his  eyes,  gave  them  a 
glance  which  fixed  the  malign  features  of  the  man  and  the 
frightened,  guilty  visage  of  the  girl  on  his  memory.  They 
regarded  him  suspiciously,  but,  as  he  went  on  without  look 
ing  back,  they  evidently  thought  him  a  casual  passer-by. 


A  BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  35 J 

"  It's  a  piece  of  villainy,"  Roger  muttered,  "  but  of  what 
nature  I  have  no  means  of  discovering,  even  were  it  any 
affair  of  mine.  I  am  satisfied  of  one  thing,  however — that 
man's  a  scoundrel  ;  seemingly  he  has  the  girl  in  his  power, 
and  it  looks  as  if  she  had  been  stealing  goods  and  he  is  com 
pounding  the  felony  with  her. ' ' 

If  he  had  realized  the  depth  of  the  fellow's  villainy  he 
would  not  have  gone  back  to  his  studies  so  quietly,  for  the 
one  nearest  to  his  heart  was  its  object.  The  scene  he  had 
witnessed  can  soon  be  explained.  Goods  at  the  lace  coun 
ter  had  been  missed  on  more  than  one  occasion,  and  it  had 
been  the  hope  of  Mildred's  enemy  that  he  might  fasten  the 
suspicion  upon  her.  On  this  evening,  however,  he  had  seen 
the  girl  in  question  secrete  two  or  three  pieces  as  she  was 
folding  them  up,  and  he  believed  she  had  carried  them  away 
with  her.  Immediately  on  joining  her  he  had  charged  her 
with  the  theft,  and  in  answer  to  her  denials  threatened  to 
have  her  searched  before  they  parted.  Then  in  terror  she 
admitted  the  fact,  and  was  in  a  condition  to  become  his  un 
willing  accomplice  in  the  diabolical  scheme  suggested  by 
his  discovery. 

He  had  said  to  her,  in  effect,  that  he  suspected  another 
girl — namely,  Mildred  Jocelyn — and  that  if  she  would  place 
the  goods  in  the  pocket  of  this  girl's  cloak  on  the  following 
afternoon  he  would  by  this  act  be  enabled  to  extort  a  confes 
sion  from  her  also,  such  as  he  had  received  in  the  present  case. 
He  then  promised  the  girl  in  return  for  this  service  that  he 
would  make  no  complaint  against  her,  but  would  give  her  the 
chance  to  find  another  situation,  which  she  must  do  speedilyt 
since  he  could  no  longer  permit  her  to  remain  in  the  employ 
of  the  house  for  whom  he  acted.  She  was  extremely  reluc 
tant  to  enter  into  this  scheme,  but,  in  her  confusion,  guilt, 
and  fear,  made  the  evil  promise,  finding  from  bitter  experi 
ence  that  one  sin,  like  an  enemy  within  the  walls,  opens  the 


3  5  2  WITHO  UT  A  HOME. 

gate  to  many  others.  She  tried  to  satisfy  such  conscience  as 
she  had  with  the  thought  that  Mildred  was  no  better  than 
herself,  and  that  the  worst  which  could  happen  to  the  object 
of  this  sudden  conspiracy  was  a  quiet  warning  to  seek  em 
ployment  elsewhere.  The  man  himself  promised  as  much, 
although  he  had  no  such  mild  measures  in  view.  It  was  his 
design  to  shame  Mildred  publicly,  to  break  down  her  charac 
ter,  and  render  her  desperate.  He  had  learned  that  she  had 
no  protector  worthy  of  the  name,  and  believed  that  he  could 
so  adroitly  play  his  part  that  he  would  appear  only  as  the 
vigilant  and  faithful  servant  of  his  employers. 

Mildred,  all  unconscious  of  the  pit  dug  beneath  her  feet, 
was  passing  out  the  following  evening  into  the  dreary  March 
storm,  when  the  foreman  touched  her  shoulder  and  said  that 
one  of  the  proprietors  wished  to  see  her.  In  much  surprise, 
and  with  only  the  fear  of  one  whose  position  meant  daily 
bread  for  herself  and  those  she  loved  better  than  self,  she 
followed  the  man  to  the  private  office,  where  she  found  two 
of  the  firm,  and  they  looked  grave  and  severe  indeed. 

' '  Miss  Jocelyn, ' '  began  the  elder,  without  any  circumlocu 
tion,  ' '  laces  have  been  missed  from  your  department,  and  sus 
picion  rests  on  you.  I  hope  you  can  prove  yourself  innocent. " 

The  charge  was  so  awful  and  unexpected  that  she  sank, 
pale  and  faint,  into  a  chair,  and  the  appearance  of  the 
terror-stricken  girl  was  taken  as  evidence  of  guilt.  But  she 
soon  rallied  sufficiently  to  say,  with  great  earnestness,  "  In 
deed,  sir,  I  am  innocent." 

' '  Assertion  is  not  proof.  Of  course  you  are  willing,  then, 
to  be  searched  ?' ' 

She,  Mildred  Jocelyn,  searched  for  stolen  goods ! 
Searched,  alone,  in  the  presence  of  these  dark-browed, 
frowning  men  !  The  act,  the  indignity,  seemed  overwhelm 
ing.  A  hot  crimson  flush  mantled  her  face,  and  her 
womanhood  rose  in  arms  against  the  insult 


A  BLACK  CONSPIRACY.  3 S3 

"  I  do  not  fear  being  searched,"  she  said  indignantly  ; 
"  but  a  woman  must  perform  the  act." 

"Certainly,"  said  her  employer;  "we  do  not  propose 
anything  indecorous  ;  but  first  call  an  officer. ' ' 

They  were  convinced  that  they  had  found  the  culprit,  and 
were  determined  to  make  such  an  example  of  her  as  would 
deter  all  others  in  the  shop  from  similar  dishonesty. 

Mildred  was  left  to  herself  a  few  moments,  faint  and  be 
wildered,  a  whirl  of  horrible  thoughts  passing  through  her 
mind  ;  and  then,  conscious  of  innocence,  she  began  to  grow 
calm,  believing  that  the  ordeal  would  soon  be  over.  Never 
theless  she  had  received  a  shock  which  left  her  weak  and 
trembling,  as  she  followed  two  of  the  most  trusty  women 
employed  in  the  shop  to  a  private  apartment,  at  whose  door 
she  saw  a  bulky  guardian  of  the  law.  The  majority,  un 
aware  of  what  had  taken  place,  had  departed  ;  but  such  as 
remained  had  lingered,  looking  in  wonder  at  the  hasty  ap 
pearance  of  the  policeman,  and  the  intense  curiosity  had 
been  heightened  when  they  saw  him  stationed  near  an  en 
trance  through  which  Mildred  was  speedily  led.  They  at 
once  surmised  the  truth,  and  waited  for  the  result  of  the 
search  in  almost  breathless  expectation.  The  girl  who  had 
done  Mildred  so  deep  a  wrong  had  hastened  away  among  the 
first,  and  so  was  unaware  of  what  was  taking  place  ;  the  chief 
conspirator,  from  an  obscure  part  in  the  now  half-lighted 
shop,  watched  with  cruel  eyes  the  working  of  his  plot 


354  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

MILDRED   IN  A  PRISON   CELL. 

NOT  from  any  sense  of  guilt,  but  rather  from  the  trem 
bling  apprehensiveness  of  one  whose  spirit  is  already 
half  broken  by  undeserved  misfortune,  Mildred  tottered  to  a 
chair  within  the  small  apartment  to  which  she  had  been 
taken.  With  an  appealing  glance  to  the  two  women  who 
stood  beside  her  she  said,  "  Oh,  hasten  to  prove  that  I  am 
innocent !  My  burden  was  already  too  heavy,  and  this  is 
horrible." 

"  Miss  Jocelyn,"  replied  the  elder  of  the  women,  in  a 
matter-of-fact  tone,  "  it's  our  duty  to  search  you  thoroughly, 
and,  if  innocent,  you  will  not  fear  it  There  will  be  noth 
ing  '  horrible '  about  the  affair  at  all,  unless  you  have  been 
stealing,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  an  honest  girl  would  show 
more  nerve." 

"  Search  me,  then — search  as  thoroughly  as  you  please," 
cried  Mildred,  with  an  indignant  flush  crimsoning  her  pale, 
wan  face.  "I'd  sooner  starve  a  thousand  times  than  take 
a  penny  that  did  not  belong  to  me. ' ' 

Grimly  and  silently,  and  with  a  half-incredulous  shrug, 
the  woman,  whose  mind  had  been  poisoned  against  Mildred, 
began  her  search,  first  taking  off  the  young  girl's  waterproof 
cloak.  "  Why  is  the  bottom  of  this  side- pocket  slit  open  ?" 
she  asked  severely.  ' '  What  is  this,  away  down  between  the 
lining  and  the  cloth  ?' '  and  she  drew  out  two  pieces  of  val 
uable  lace. 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  355 

Mildred  looked  at  the  om.nous  wares  with  dilated  eyes, 
and  for  a  moment  was  speechless  with  astonishment  and 
terror. 

"  Your  words  and  deeds  are  a  trifle  discordant,"  began 
the  woman,  in  cold  satire,  "  but  your  manner  is  more  in 
keeping. ' ' 

' '  I  know  nothing  abou  L  that  lace, ' '  Mildred  exclaimed 
passionately.  ' '  This  is  a  plot  against — ' ' 

"  Oh,  nonsense  !"  interrupted  the  woman  harshly. 
"  Here,  officer,"  she  continued,  opening  the  door,  "  take 
your  prisoner.  These  goods  were  found  upon  her  person, 
concealed  within  the  lining  of  her  cloak,"  and  she  showed 
him  where  the  lace  had  been  discovered. 

"A  mighty  clear  case,"  was  his  grinning  reply;  "still 
you  must  be  ready  to  testify  to-morrow,  unless  the  girl  pleads 
guilty,  which  will  be  her  best  course." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?"  asked  Mildred, 
in  a  hoarse  whisper. 

"  Oh,  nothing  uncommon,  miss — only  what  is  always 
done  under  such  circumstances.  We'll  give  you  free  lodg 
ings  to-night,  and  time  to  think  a  bit  over  your  evil  ways. 

One  of  the  seniors  of  the  firm,  who  had  drawn  near  to  the 
door  and  had  heard  the  result  of  the  search,  now  said,  with 
much  indignation,  and  in  a  tone  that  all  present  could  hear, 
"  Officer,  remove  your  prisoner,  and  show  no  leniency. 
Let  the  law  take  its  full  course,  for  we  intend  to  stamp  out 
all  dishonesty  from  our  establishment,  most  thoroughly." 

"  Come,"  said  the  policeman,  roughly  laying  his  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  the  almost  paralyzed  girl. 

"  Where  ?"  she  gasped. 

"  Why,  to  the  station-house,  of  course,"  he  answered 
impatiently. 

' '  Oh,  you  can' t  mean  that. ' ' 

"  Come,   come,  no  nonsense,  no  airs.     You  knew  well 


356  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

enough  that  the  station-house  and  jail  were  at  the  end  of  th« 
road  you  were  travelling.  People  always  get  found  out,, 
sooner  or  later.  If  you  make  me  trouble  in  arresting  you, 
it  will  go  all  the  harder  with  you." 

' '  Can' 1 1 — can' 1 1  send  word  to  my  friends  ?' ' 

"  No,  indeed,  not  now.  Your  pals  must  appear  in  court 
to-morrow. ' ' 

She  looked  appealingly  around,  and  on  every  face  within 
the  circle  of  light  saw  only  aversion  and  anger,  while  the 
cruel,  mocking  eyes  of  the  man  whose  coarse  advances  she 
had  so  stingingly  resented  were  almost  fiendish  in  their  ex 
ultation. 

"  It's  of  no  use,'  she  muttered  bitterly.  "It  seems  as 
if  all  the  world,  and  God  Himself,  were  against  me,"  and 
giving  way  to  a  despairing  apathy  she  followed  the  officer 
out  of  the  store — out  into  the  glaring  lamplight  of  the  street, 
out  into  the  wild  March  storm  that  swept  her  along  toward 
prison.  To  her  morbid  mind  the  sleet-laden  gale  seemed  in 
league  with  all  the  other  malign  influences  that  were  hurry 
ing  her  on  to  shame  and  ruin. 

"  Hi,  there  !  Look  where  you  are  going, "  thundered  the 
policeman  to  a  passenger  who  was  breasting  the  storm,  with  his 
umbrella  pointed  at  an  angle  that  threatened  the  officer's  eye. 

The  umbrella  was  thrown  back,  and  then  flew  away  on 
the  gale  from  the  nerveless  hands  of  Roger  Atwood.  Dumb 
and  paralyzed  with  wonder,  he  impeded  their  progress  a 
moment  as  he  looked  into  Mildred's  white  face. 

At  last  a  time  had  come  when  she  welcomed  his  presence, 
and  she  cried,  ' '  Oh,  Mr.  Atwood,  tell  them  at  home — tell 
them  I'm  innocent." 

"  What  does  this  outrage  mean  ?"  he  demanded,  in  a  tone 
that  caused  the  officer  to  grasp  his  club  tightly. 

"  It  means  that  if  you  interfere  by  another  word  I'll 
arrest  you  also.  Move  on,  and  mind  your  business." 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  357 

"  Miss  Jocelyn,  explain,"  he  said  earnestly  to  her,  with 
out  budging  an  inch,  and  the  comparatively  few  passers-by 
began  to  gather  around  them. 

11  You  can  have  no  communication  with  the  prisoner  on 
the  street,"  said  the  arm  of  the  law  roughly  ;  "  and  if  you 
don' t  get  out  of  my  way  you'  11  be  sorry. ' ' 

"  Please  don't  draw  attention  to  me,"  entreated  Mildred 
hurriedly.  "  You  can  do  nothing.  I'm  falsely  accused — 
tell  them  at  home." 

He  passed  swiftly  on  her  side,  and,  as  he  did  so,  whis 
pered,  "  You  shall  not  be  left  alone  a  moment.  I'll  fol 
low,  and  to-morrow  prove  you  innocent, ' '  for,  like  a  flash,  the 
scene  he  had  witnessed  the  evening  before  came  into  his  mind. 

"Quit  that,"  warned  the  officer,  "or  I'll —  '  but  the 
young  man  was  gone.  He  soon  turned,  however,  and  fol 
lowed  until  he  saw  Mildred  led  within  the  station-house 
door.  The  storm  was  so  severe  as  to  master  the  curiosity  of 
the  incipient  crowd,  and  only  a  few  street  gamins  followed 
his  example.  He  was  wary  now,  and,  having  regained  his 
self-control,  he  recognized  a  task  that  would  tax  his  best  skill 
and  tact. 

Having  watched  until  he  saw  the  officer  who  had  made  the 
arrest  depart,  he  entered  the  station-house.  To  the  sergeant 
on  duty  behind  the  long  desk  he  said,  with  much  courtesy, 
"  I  am  a  friend  of  Miss  Jocelyn,  a  young  woman  recently 
brought  to  this  station.  I  wish  to  do  nothing  contrary  to 
your  rules,  but  I  would  like  to  communicate  with  her  and  do 
what  I  can  for  her  comfort.  Will  you  please  explain  to  me 
what  privileges  may  be  granted  to  the  prisoner  and  to  her 
friends  ?' ' 

' '  Well,  this  is  a  serious  case,  and  the  proof  against  her  is 
almost  positive.  The  stolen  goods  were  found  upon  her  per 
son,  and  her  employers  have  charged  that  there  be  no 
leniency." 


358  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  Her  employers  could  not  have  wished  her  treated 
cruelly,  and  if  they  did,  you  are  not  the  man  to  carry  out 
their  wishes,"  Roger  insinuated.  "All  that  her  friends  ask 
is  kindness  and  fair'  play  within  the  limits  of  your  rules. 
Moreover,  her  friends  have  information  which  will  show  her 
to  be  innocent,  and  let  me  assure  you  that  she  is  a  lady  by 
birth  and  breeding,  although  the  family  has  been  reduced  to 
poverty.  She  has  influential  friends." 

His  words  evidently  had  weight  with  the  sergeant,  and 
Roger's  bearing  was  so  gentlemanly  that  the  official  imagined 
that  the  young  man  himself  might  represent  no  mean  degree 
of  social  and  political  influence. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  noticed  that  she  wasn't  one  of  the 
common  sort. ' ' 

"  And  you  must  have  observed  also  that  she  was  delicate 
and  frail  looking." 

"  Yes,  that,  too,  was  apparent,  and  we  have  every  dis 
position  to  be  humane  toward  prisoners.  You  can  send  her 
some  supper  and  bedding,  and  if  you  wish  to  write  to  her 
you  can  do  so,  but  must  submit  what  you  write  to  the  cap 
tain  of  the  precinct.  I'm  expecting  him  every  minute." 

Roger  wrote  rapidly  : 

"  Miss  JOCELYN  :  Your  friends  fully  believe  in  your  inno 
cence,  and  I  think  I  can  say  without  doubt  that  they  have 
the  means  of  proving  it.  Much  depends  on  your  maintain 
ing  strength  and  courage.  Bedding  will  be  sent  to  make 
you  comfortable,  and,  for  the  sake  of  your  mother  and 
those  you  love  at  home,  I  hope  you  will  not  refuse  the  sup 
per  that  shall  soon  be  sent  also.  I  have  ever  believed  that 
you  were  the  bravest  girl  in  the  world,  and  now  that  so  much 
depends  on  your  fortitude  and  nerve,  I  am  sure  you  will 
second  the  efforts  of  those  who  are  trying  to  aid  you.  With 
the  strongest  respect  and  sympathy, 

"  ROGER  ATWOOD. '' 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  359 

The  captain,  who  soon  appeared,  saw  no  objection  to  this 
note,  and  promised  that  it  should  be  sent  to  Mildred. 

Roger  then  went  to  the  nearest  restaurant,  and  procured  a 
delicate  and  inviting  supper,  which,  with  a  generous  pot  of 
coffee,  he  carried  so  swiftly  through  the  storm  that  it  was  sent 
smoking  hot  to  the  cell  in  which  Mildred  was  confined. 

He  then  hastened  to  a  livery-stable,  and,  having  obtained 
a  carriage,  was  driven  rapidly  to  the  tenement  in  which  the 
Jocelyns  had  their  rooms.  Mr.  Jocelyn,  fortunately,  was 
absent;  for  Mildred's  natural  protector  would  only  have 
made  matters  far  worse.  If  the  guardians  of  the  law  had 
looked  upon  the  wrecked  and  fallen  man  they  would  have 
felt  that  the  daughter's  alleged  crime  was  already  half  ex 
plained.  But  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Jocelyn  would  make  a  far 
different  impression,  and  he  determined  that  she  alone 
should  accompany  him  to  the  station-house. 

It  would  be  useless  to  pain  the  reader  with  Mrs.  Jocelyn' s 
distress,  and  for  a  time  Roger  thought  the  tidings  would 
crush  the  already  stricken  woman  ;  but  in  answer  to  his 
appeal  she  soon  rallied  in  defence  of  her  child.  At  his 
request  she  assumed,  as  far  as  possible,  the  garb  of  a  lady — 
the  appearance  and  bearing  of  one  was  inseparable  from  her. 
It  was  with  much  difficulty  that  he  persuaded  the  weeping 
and  indignant  Belle  to  remain  with  the  children,  for  he  well 
knew  that  she  was  far  too  excitable  to  deal  with  the  police. 
Having  made  every  provision  possible  for  Mildred's  com 
fort,  they  soon  reached  the  station-house,  and  the  sergeant 
in  charge  greeted  them  politely  ;  but  on  learning  their  errand 
he  frowned,  and  said  to  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  "  No,  you  can't  see  her 
till  she  is  brought  into  court  to-morrow." 

In  answer  to  the  mother's  appeals  and  Roger's  expostula 
tions  he  remarked  impatiently,  "  Do  you  think  I'm  going 
to  disobey  orders  ?  Either  take  my  answer  or  wait  till  the 
captain  comes  in  again." 


360  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

They  had  no  other  resource,  and  sat  down  to  weary  wait 
ing,  the  mother  weeping  silently,  and  Roger,  with  sternly 
knit  brows,  deep  in  thought. 

At  last  the  captain  returned,  and  the  sergeant  rose  and 
said,  "  Here's  the  mother  of  the  girl  who  was  taken  with 
stolen  goods  on  her  person.  She  wishes  to  speak  with  you. ' ' 

' '  Well,  what  is  it  ?' '  demanded  the  police-captain  a  little 
harshly,  turning  toward  Mrs.  Jocelyn  ;  but  his  manner  soft 
ened  as  he  looked  upon  the  thin,  delicate  features  which  had 
not  yet  lost  their  old,  sweet  charm,  and  which  now  were 
eloquent  with  a  mother's  unspeakable  grief  and  solicitude. 
"  Don't  be  frightened,  madam,"  he  added,  somewhat 
kindly,  as  he  saw  the  poor  woman's  ineffectual  efforts  to  rise 
and  speak.  "I'm  human,  and  not  more  hard-hearted  than 
my  duties  require. ' ' 

At  last  Mrs.  Jocelyn  burst  forth  :  "  If  you  have  a  heart  at 
all,  sir,  save  mine  from  breaking.  My  child  is  innocent — it 
will  be  proved  to-morrow.  A  year  ago  we  had  a  happy, 
beautiful  home,  and  my  girl  a  father  whom  all  men  respected. 
We've  had  misfortunes,  that,  thank  God,  fall  to  the  lot  of 
few,  but  my  child  has  kept  herself  spotless  through  them  all. 
I  can  prove  this.  She  is  in  prison,  to-night  through  no  fault 
of  hers.  Oh,  sir,  in  the  name  of  mother-love,  can  you  keep 
me  from  my  child  ?  Can  I  not  see  her  even  for  a  moment, 
and  say  to  her  one  reassuring  word  ?  She  may  go  mad  from 
fear  and  shame.  She  may  die.  Oh,  sir,  if  you  have  the 
heart  of  a  man,  let  me  see  her,  let  me  speak  to  her.  You, 
or  any  one,  may  be  present  and  see  that  I  mean  no  harm. ' ' 
'  There  certainly  has  been  some  dreadful  mistake," 
Roger  put  in  hastily,  as  he  saw  that  the  man  was  irresolute, 
and  was  regarding  the  suppliant  sympathetically.  "  People 
who  must  command  your  respect  will  be  glad  to  testify  that 
Miss  Jocelyn' s  character  is  such  as  to  render  impossible  any 
thing  dishonorable  on  her  part. ' ' 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  361 

"  Let  me  warn  you,"  said  the  officer  keenly,  "  that  any 
such  negative  testimony  will  have  but  little  weight  against  the 
positive  facts  in  the  case." 

"  Oh,  let  me  see  my  child,"  cried  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  in  tones 
of  such  passionate  pathos  that  his  scruples  gave  way,  and  he 
said  to  the  sergeant,  "  Let  her  see  the  girl  !  I'd  be  a  brute 
to  deny  her,  even  if  it  is  against  our  rules.  The  doorman 
need  not  stand  near  enough  to  embarrass  them. ' ' 

As  Mrs.  Jocelyn  eagerly  descended  to  the  cells  in  the  base 
ment,  the  captain  remarked  to  Roger,    "  The  girl's  friends 
will  have  to  bestir  themselves  if  they  clear  her.     The  evi-  - 
dence  is  so  strong  that  she'll  be  committed  for  further  trial, 
without  doubt. ' ' 

"  I  think  she'll  be  discharged  to-morrow,"  replied  Roger 
quietly.  "  I  thank  you  for  your  kindness  to  Mrs.  Jocelyn." 

"  Mere  statements  as  to  the  girl's  previous  character  will 
not  clear  her, ' '  resumed  the  captain  emphatically.  ' '  You 
are  a  relative,  lover,  or  something,  I  suppose.  This  poor 
woman  has  knocked  my  routine  methods  a  little  out  of  gear. 
One  rarely  sees  a  face  like  hers  in  a  station-house.  She  evi 
dently  comes  of  no  common  stock,  and  I'd  like  to  hear  that 
the  charge  is  all  a  mistake,  as  you  claim  ;  but,  young  man, 
you  can't  meet  criminal  charges  with  generalities.  You've 
got  to  show  that  she  didn'  t  steal  that  lace.  I  wish  you  suc 
cess,  for  the  mother's  sake  at  least,"  and  he  passed  into  his 
private  room. 

As  Mildred  was  about  to  enter  the  station-house  she  had 
looked  back,  hoping,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  that  Roger 
Atwood  was  near.  The  eager  and  reassuring  wave  of  his 
hand  satisfied  her  that  he  would  know  the  place  of  her  im 
prisonment,  and  that  he  would  do  for  her  all  within  his 
power.  Again  he  had  appeared  in  the  hour  of  misfortune 
and  bitter  humiliation.  But,  in  spite  of  her  heart,  she  now 
did  justice  to  his  sturdy  loyalty,  and  she  was  comforted  and 


362  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

sustained  by  the  thought  that  not  quite  all  the  world  was 
against  her.  She  also  knew  that  he  would  relieve  her  mother 
and  Belle  from  unendurable  anxiety  on  account  of  her  ab 
sence,  and  that  he  would  summon  Mr.  Wentworth  to  her 
aid.  His  promise  to  prove  her  innocent  had  meant  nothing 
to  her  more  than  that  he  would  inform  and  rally  all  of  her 
friends.  That  he  could  know  anything  that  would  throw 
light  on  the  evil  mystery  did  not  seem  possible.  She  was 
then  too  miserable  and  depressed  to  do  much  more  than  wait, 
in  a  sort  of  stunned  torpor,  for  what  might  next  occur. 
Mechanically  she  answered  such  questions  as  were  put  to  her 
in  order  that  a  record  of  the  case  might  be  made,  and  then 
was  led  to  the  cells  below.  She  shuddered  as  she  saw  the 
dimly  lighted  stairway,  and  it  seemed  to  her  morbid  fancy 
that  she  was  to  be  thrust  into  a  subterranean  dungeon. 
Such,  in  a  certain  sense,  it  was  ;  for  in  some  of  the  older 
station-houses  the  cells  are  located  in  the  basement.  At  the 
end  of  the  corridor,  nearest  the  street,  she  saw  several  women, 
and,  unkempt  and  disgusting  as  these  station-house  tramps 
appeared,  the  fact  that  some  of  her  own  sex  were  near  was  re 
assuring.  A  prison  was  to  her  a  place  full  of  nameless  hor 
rors,  for  the  romances  she  had  read  in  brighter  days  gave  to  it 
the  associations  of  medieval  dungeons.  Of  the  prosaic  char 
acter  of  a  modern  jail  she  knew  nothing,  and  when  she  was 
placed  within  a  bare  cell,  and  the  grated  iron  door  was  locked 
upon  her,  the  horrible  desolation  of  her  position  seemed  as 
complete  and  tragic  a  fate  as  had  ever  overtaken  the  unfortu 
nate  in  the  cruel  past.  She  sat  down  upon  the  grimy  wooden 
bench,  which  was  the  only  provision  made  for  rest  or  com 
fort,  and  the  thought  of  spending  a  lonely  night  in  such  a 
place  was  overpowering.  Not  that  she  could  hope  for  sleep, 
even  if  there  were  downy  pillows  instead  of  this  unredeemed 
couch  of  plank  on  which  some  beastly  inebriate  may  have 
slept  off  his  stupor  the  night  before,  but  she  felt  weak  and 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  363 

faint,  and  her  overtaxed  physical  nature  craved  some  support 
and  rest. 

Distress  of  mind,  however,  soon  made  her  forget  all  this, 
as  her  faculties  slowly  rallied  from  the  shock  they  had  re 
ceived,  and  she  began  to  realize  that  she  was  charged  with  a 
crime  of  which  it  might  be  difficult — perhaps  impossible — to 
prove  her  innocence.  At  best,  she  feared  she  would  always 
be  so  clouded  with  suspicion  that  all  would  refuse  to  employ 
her,  and  that  her  blighted  life  and  undeserved  shame,  added 
to  her  father's  character,  would  drag  the  family  down  to  the 
lowest  depths.  The  consequences  to  them  all,  and  especially 
to  Belle,  seemed  so  threatening  and  terrible  that  she  wrung 
her  hands  and  moaned  aloud. 

At  every  sound  she  started  up,  nervous  and  morbidly  ap 
prehensive.  The  grating  of  the  key  in  the  iron  door  had 
given  her  a  sense  of  relief  and  refuge.  The  massive  bars  that 
shut  her  in  also  shut  out  the  brutal  and  criminal,  who  were  as 
sociated  with  a  prison  in  her  mind  ;  the  thoughts  of  whom  had 
filled  her  very  soul  with  terror,  when  she  was  first  arrested.  As 
it  was  early  in  the  evening  she  happened  to  be  the  first  pris 
oner,  and  she  prayed  that  there  might  be  no  others,  for  the 
possibility  that  some  foul,  drunken  man  might  be  thrust  into 
an  adjoining  cell  made  her  flesh  creep.  How  many  long, 
sleepless  hours  must  pass  before  morning  could  bring  any 
hope  of  release  !  And  yet  she  dreaded  the  coming  day 
unspeakably,  for  her  path  to  freedom  lay  through  a  police 
court,  with  all  its  horrible  publicity.  Her  name  might  get 
into  the  papers,  and  proud  Mrs.  Arnold  treasure  up  every  scrap 
of  such  intelligence  about  her.  The  tidings  of  her  shame 
might  be  sent  to  her  who  as  Miss  Wetheridge  had  been  her 
friend,  and  even  she  would  shrink  from  one  around  whom 
clung  such  disgraceful  associations.  Again  and  again  she 
asked  herself,  How  could  the  charge  against  her  be  met  ? 
How  could  the  family  live  without  her  ?  What  would  become 


364  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

of  them  f  Belle,  alas,  would  be  rendered  utterly  reckless, 
because  hopeless.  The  unhappy  prisoner  was  far  beyond 
tears.  Even  her  faith  in  God  failed  her,  for,  seemingly,  He 
had  left  her  the  victim  of  cruel  wrong  and  unredeemed  mis 
fortune.  With  her  hot,  dry  eyes  buried  in  her  hands  she  sat 
motionless  and  despairing,  and  the  moments  passed  like 
hours. 

At  this  crisis  in  her  despair  Roger's  note  was  handed  to 
her,  and  it  was  like  the  north  star  suddenly  shining  out  on 
one  who  is  benighted  and  lost.  It  again  kindled  hope,  with 
out  which  mind  and  body  give  way  in  fatal  dejection.  She 
kissed  the  missive  passionately,  murmuring,  with  eyes  heaven 
ward,  "  If  he  can  clear  my  name  from  dishonor,  if  he  will 
rescue  my  loved  ones  from  the  poverty  and  shame  which  are 
now  threatening  such  terrible  evils,  I  will  make  any  sacrifice 
that  he  can  ask.  I  will  crush  out  my  old  vain  love,  if  I  die 
in  the  effort.  My  heart  shall  not  prove  a  traitor  to  those 
who  are  true  and  loyal  at  such  a  time.  He  can  save 
mamma,  Belle,  and  the  children  from  hopeless  poverty,  and 
perhaps  destruction.  If  he  will,  and  it  is  his  wish,  Til  give 
all  there  is  left  of  my  unhappy  self.  I  will  be  his  loyal  wife 
— would  to  God  I  could  be  his  loving  wife  !  Oh,  would  to 
God  he  had  loved  Belle  instead  of  me  !  I  could  be  devo 
tion  itself  as  his  sister.  But  surely  I  can  banish  my  old 
fond  dream — which  was  never  more  than  a  dream — when 
one  so  deserving,  so  faithful,  is  willing  to  give  me  his  strong, 
helpful  hand.  We  are  both  very  young  ;  it  will  be  years  be 
fore — before — and,  surely,  in  so  long  a  time,  I  can  conquer 
my  infatuation  for  one  who  has  left  me  all  these  dreary 
months  without  a  word.  A  woman' s  heart  cannot  be  proof 
against  reason,  gratitude,  and  the  sacred  duty  owed  to  those 
she  loves  best.  At  any  rate,  mine  shall  not  be,  and  if  he 
still  craves  the  loyalty  and — and — yes,  the  love  of  one  so 
shamed  and  impoverished  as  I  am,  he  shall  have  all — all," 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  365 

and  her  face  grew  stern  with  her  purpose  of  self-mastery. 
She  forced  down  some  of  the  food  he  sent,  and  drank  the 
coffee.  "  I  will  be  brave,"  she  murmured.  "  I  will  try  to 
second  his  efforts  to  clear  my  name,  for  death  were  better 
than  shame.  I  shall,  at  least,  try  to  deserve  his  respect." 

Then  musingly  she  added,  "  How  can  my  friends  have 
gained  any  information  that  would  prove  me  innocent  ? 
Mother  and  Belle  cannot  know  anything  definite,  nor  can 
Mr.  Wentworth.  He  promised  in  that  brief  whisper  when 
he  passed  me  in  the  street  that  he  would  prove  it.  Can  he 
have  learned  anything  in  his  strange  vigilance  ?  It  seems 
impossible.  Alas,  I  fear  that  their  best  hope  is  to  show  that 
i  have  hitherto  borne  a  good  character,  and  yet  if  my  present 
home  and  our  poverty  are  described,  if — worse  than  all — 
papa  appears  in  the  court-room,  I  fear  they  will  think  the 
worst, ' '  and  something  of  her  old  despair  began  to  return 
when  she  heard  approaching  footsteps. 

"  Millie  !"  cried  a  loved  and  familiar  voice.  The  key  grat 
ed  in  the  lock,  and  in  another  moment  she  was  sobbing  on 
her  mother' s  breast,  and  her  bruised  heart  was  healed  by  the 
unutterable  tenderness  of  a  mother's  love.  It  filled  the  dark 
cell  with  the  abounding,  undoubting,  unquestioning  spirit  of 
unselfish  devotion,  which  was  akin  to  the  fragrance  diffused 
from  the  broken  box  of  alabaster. 

When  sufficiently  calm,  Mildred  told  her  mother  what  had 
happened,  and  she  in  turn  whispered  that  Roger  had  strong 
hopes  that  he  could  prove  her  innocence  on  the  following 
day,  though  how  she  did  not  know.  "  And  yet,  Millie," 
she  concluded,  "  for  some  reason  he  inspires  me  with  confi 
dence,  for  while  he  feels  so  deeply,  he  is  quiet  and  thought 
ful  about  the  least  thing.  Nothing  seems  to  escape  his 
mind,  and  he  says  he  has  some  information  of  which  he  does 
not  think  it  best  to  speak  at  present  He  entreats  you  to 
take  courage,  and  says  that  if  you  will '  keep  up  and  be  your 


366  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

brave,  true  self,  gentle  and  strong/  you  can  do  much  to  aid 
him.  We  will  all  stand  by  you,  and  Mr.  Wentworth  will  be 
with  us." 

' '  Where — where  is  papa  ?' '  faltered  Mildred,  with  a  slight 
flush. 

1 '  I  don' t  know, ' '  responded  the  wife,  with  a  deep  sob. 

"  Alas,  mother,  it's  cruel  to  say  it,  but  it  will  be  best  that 
he  should  not  appear  at  all.  Keep  him  away  if  possible.  I 
hope  he  may  never  know  anything  about  it,  unless  you 
think  this  terrible  result  of  his  course  may  awaken  him  to  a 
final  struggle  to  do  right.  I  would  gladly  surfer  anything  to 
save  him." 

"  No,  Millie,  he  would  not  be  his  old  self  if  he  came  into 
court,"  said  her  mother  dejectedly,  "and  his  appearance 
and  manner  might  turn  the  scale  against  you.  Our  best 
hope  is  to  let  Roger  manage  everything.  And  now,  good- 
by,  my  darling.  God  sustain  you.  Do  not  fear  anything 
to-night.  Roger  says  you  are  safe,  and  that  his  only  dread 
is  that  you  may  become  nervously  prostrated,  and  he  relies 
on  your  help  to-morrow.  I  can' t  stay  any  longer.  Oh, 
God,  how  glad  I  would  be  if  I  could  hold  you  in  my  arms 
all  night  !  Belle  is  strongly  excited,  and  says  she  will  never 
believe  a  word  against  you,  nor  will  any  of  your  true  friends 
— alas  !  I  wish  we  had  more." 

"  Time  is  up,"  warned  the  doorman. 

"  Tell  Mr.  Atwood  that  I  am  deeply  grateful  for  his  aid, 
and  more  grateful  for  his  trust,"  said  Mildred. 

"  Courage,  Millie  ;  you  can  sustain  me  by  keeping  up 
yourself.  You  will  find  us  in  the  court-room  waiting  for 
you. ' ' 

With  an  embrace  in  which  heart  throbbed  against  heart 
they  separated,  and  the  poor  girl  was  comforted  and  more 
hopeful  in  spite  of  herself,  for  while  she  would  shrink  from 
Roger,  her  confidence  in  his  shrewdness  and  intelligence  had 


MILDRED  IN  A  PRISON  CELL.  367 

made  such  growth  that  she  half  believed  he  would  find  some 
way  of  proving  her  innocent,  although  how  he  had  obtained 
any  evidence  in  her  favor  she  could  not  imagine.  The  bed 
ding  brought  by  her  mother  transformed  the  cell-bunk  into 
a  comfortable  couch,  and  she  lay  down  and  tried  to  rest,  so 
as  to  be  ready  to  do  her  part,  and  her  overtaxed  nature  soon 
brought  something  like  sleep.  She  was  startled  out  of  her 
half-consciousness  by  a  shrill  cry,  and  sprang  to  her  feet 
There  was  a  confused  sound  of  steps  on  the  stairs,  and  then 
again  the  same  wild  cry  that  almost  made  her  heart  stand 
still.  A  moment  later  two  policemen  appeared,  dragging  a 
woman,  who  was  resisting  and  shrieking  with  demoniacal 
fury. 

The  sight  was  a  horrible  one.  The  faces  of  the  great,  stal 
wart  men  were  reddened  by  exertion,  for  the  woman  seemed 
to  possess  supernatural  strength,  and  their  familiarity  with 
crime  was  not  so  great  as  to  prevent  strong  expressions  of 
disgust.  Little  wonder,  for  if  a  fiend  could  embody  itself  in 
a  woman,  this  demented  creature  would  leave  nothing  for  the 
imagination.  Her  dress  was  wet,  torn,  and  bedraggled  ;  her 
long  black  hair  hung  dishevelled  around  a  white,  bloated 
face,  from  which  her  eyes  gleamed  with  a  fierceness  like  that 
of  insanity. 

With  no  little  difficulty  they  thrust  her  into  a  cell  opposite 
the  one  in  which  Mildred  was  incarcerated,  and  as  one  of  the 
men  turned  the  key  upon  her  he  said  roughly,  "  Stay 
there  now,  you  drunken  she-devil,  till  you  are  sober,"  and 
breathing  heavily  from  their  efforts  they  left  the  poor  wretch 
to  the  care  of  the  jailer. 

Mildred  shrank  away.  Not  for  the  world  would  she  en 
counter  the  woman's  frenzied  eyes.  Then  she  stopped  her 
ears,  that  she  might  not  hear  the  horrid  din  and  shameful 
language,  which  made  the  place  tenfold  more  revolting. 
The  man  in  charge  of  the  cells  sat  dozing  stolidly  by  the 


3^8  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

stove,  some  distance  away.     His  repose  was  not  to  be  dis 
turbed  by  such  familiar  sounds. 

At  last  the  woman  became  quiet,  and  Mildred  breathed 
more  freely,  until  some  mysterious  sounds,  suggesting  that 
her  terrible  neighbor  was  trying  to  open  her  door,  awakened 
her  fears,  for  even  the  thought  of  her  coming  any  nearer 
made  her  tremble.  She  therefore  sprang  up  and  looked  be 
tween  the  iron  bars.  At  first  she  was  perplexed  by  what  she 
saw,  and  then  her  heart  stood  still,  for  she  soon  made  out 
that  the  woman  was  hanging  by  the  neck,  from  the  highest 
bar  of  her  cell  door.  ' '  Help, ' '  Mildred  shrieked  ;  ' '  quick, 
if  you  would  save  life. ' ' 

The   man  by  the  stove  sprang  up  and  rushed  forward. 

"  There,  see — oh,  be  quick  !" 

The  jailer  comprehended  the  situation  at  once,  unlocked 
the  door,  and  cut  the  parts  of  her  clothing  which  the  woman 
had  improvised  into  a  halter.  She  soon  revived,  and  cursed 
him  for  his  interference.  He  now  watched  her  carefully, 
paying  no  heed  to  her  horrible  tongue,  until  the  crazed  stage 
of  her  intoxication  passed  into  stupor.  *  To  Mildred  he  said, 
reassuringly,  "  Don't  be  afraid  ;  you're  as  safe  as  if  you 
were  at  home. ' ' 

"  Home,  home,  home  !"  moaned  the  poor  girl.  "  Oh, 
what  a  mockery  that  word  has  become  !  My  best  hope  may 
soon  be  to  find  one  in  heaven." 

*  The  writer  saw  the  cell  in  which,  on  the  evening  before,  the 
woman  described  tried  twice  to  destroy  herself.  He  also  saw 
the  woman  herself,  when  brought  before  the  police  justice.  She 
had  seen  twenty-five  years,  but  in  evil  she  seemed  old  indeed. 
According  to  her  story,  she  was  a  daughter  of  the  Puritans. 


"  A    WISE  JUDGE."  369 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

"A  WISE  JUDGE." 

WHEN  the  interminable  night  would  end  Mildred 
could  not  guess,  for  no  dawning  was  visible  from 
her  basement  cell.  The  woman  opposite  gradually  became 
stupid  and  silent  Other  prisoners  were  brought  in  from 
time  to  time,  but  they  were  comparatively  quiet.  A  young 
girl  was  placed  in  a  cell  not  far  away,  and  her  passionate 
weeping  was  pitiful  to  hear.  The  other  prisoners  were  gen 
erally  intoxicated  or  stolidly  indifferent,  and  were  soon  mak 
ing  the  night  hideous  with  their  discordant  respiration. 

The  place  had  become  so  terrible  to  Mildred  that  she  even 
welcomed  the  presence  of  the  policeman  who  had  arrested 
her,  and  who  at  last  came  to  take  her  to  the  police  court. 
Must  she  walk  with  him  through  the  streets  in  the  open  light 
of  day  ?  She  feared  she  would  faint  on  what,  in  her  weak 
ness,  would  be  a  long  journey,  and  her  heart  gave  a  great 
throb  of  gratitude  as  she  saw  Roger  awaiting  her  in  the  large 
general  room,  or  entrance,  to  the  station-house.  Nor  was 
her  appreciation  of  his  kindness  diminished  when  she  saw  a 
man  in  attendance — evidently  a  waiter  from  a  restaurant — 
with  a  plate  of  sandwiches  and  a  pot  of  coffee.  Roger  came 
forward,  eagerly  grasping  her  hand,  and  there  was  so  much 
solicitude  and  sympathy  in  his  dark  eyes  that  her  tears  began 
to  gather,  and  a  faint  color  to  suffuse  the  pallor  that  at  first 
had  startled  him. 

"Mr.  Atwood,"  she  murmured,  "you  are  kindness  it- 


37°  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

self,  and  I  have  not  deserved  it.  Forgive  me.  I  will  try 
not  to  fail  you  to-day,  for  your  respect  sustains  me,  and  I 
would  not  lose  it. ' ' 

"  I  knew  your  brave  spirit  would  second  all  our  efforts," 
he  said  in  like  low  tones,  and  with  a  bright,  grateful  look. 
"  Here,  waiter — come,  Miss  Jocelyn,  it's  by  just  such  prosaic 
means  that  soldiers  sustain  the  fight.  You'll  dine  at  home. " 

"  Yes,  hurry  up,"  added  the  officer  ;  "we  have  no  time 
now  for  words  or  ceremony." 

She  ate  a  few  mouthfuls,  and  drank  some  coffee.  "  I 
cannot  take  any  more  now,"  she  said  to  Roger. 

Oh,  how  plainly  her  womanly  instinct  divined  his  un 
bounded  loyalty  ;  and,  with  bitter  protest  at  her  weakness, 
she  knew  with  equal  certainty  that  she  shrank  from  his  love 
with  her  old,  unconquerable  repugnance.  With  a  dissimu 
lation  which  even  he  did  not  penetrate,  she  looked  her  thanks 
as  the  officer  led  the  way  to  the  street,  and  said,  ' '  Since  your 
friends  provide  the  carriage,  you  can  ride,  miss  ;  only  we 
can't  part  company." 

She  stepped  into  the  coach,  the  policeman  taking  the  op 
posite  seat. 

"  Oh,  God,  how  pale  and  wan  she  is  !  This  will  kill 
her,"  Roger  groaned,  as  he  sprang  up  on  the  box  with  the 
driver. 

It  was  so  early  that  few  were  abroad,  and  yet  Mildred 
would  not  look  up.  How  could  she  ever  look  up  again  ! 
The  leaden  clouds  seemed  to  rest  upon  the  steeples  of  the 
churches.  Churches  !  and  such  scenes  as  she  had  witnessed, 
and  such  a  wrong  as  hers,  were  taking  place  under  the 
shadow  of  their  spires  ! 

Roger  had  passed  as  sleepless  a  night  as  had  fallen  to  Mil 
dred's  lot,  and  bitterly  he  regretted  that  he  had  been  able  to 
accomplish  so  little.  Mr.  Wentworth  was  out  of  town,  and 
would  not  be  back  for  a  day  or  two.  Then  he  sought  the 


"A    WISE  JUDGE."  371 

judge  before  whom  Mildred  would  appear  the  following 
morning,  and  learned,  with  dismay,  that  he,  too,  had  gone 
to  a  neighboring  city,  and  would  return  barely  in  time  to 
open  court  at  the  usual  hour  !  He  had  hoped  that,  by  tell 
ing  his  story  beforehand,  the  judge  would  adopt  his  plan  of 
discovering  the  real  culprit.  This  was  still  his  hope,  for, 
after  long  thought,  he  determined  not  to  employ  counsel, 
fearing  it  would  lead  to  a  prolongation  of  the  case.  His 
strong  characteristic  of  self-reliance  led  him  to  believe  that  he 
could  manage  the  affair  best  alone,  and  he  was  confident 
from  his  own  inexperience.  The  rain  had  ceased,  and  for 
hours  he  paced  the  wet  pavement  near  the  station-house, 
finding  a  kind  of  satisfaction  in  being  as  near  as  possible  to 
the  one  he  loved,  though  utterly  unable  to  say  a  reassuring 
word. 

Having  learned  that  the  prisoners  might  ride  to  court  if 
the  means  were  provided,  he  had  a  carriage  ready  long  before 
the  appointed  time,  and  his  presence  did  much  to  nerve  Mil 
dred  for  the  ordeal  she  so  much  dreaded. 

On  reaching  the  entrance  at  which  the  prisoners  were  ad 
mitted,  he  sprang  down  to  assist  Mildred  to  alight ;  but  the 
officer  said  gruffly,  "  Stand  back,  young  man  ;  you  must 
have  your  say  in  the  court-room.  You  are  a  little  too 
officious." 

"  No,  sir  ;  I'm  only  most  friendly." 

"  Well,  well,  we  have  our  rules,"  and  he  led  the  trem 
bling  girl  within  the  stony  portals,  and  she  was  locked  up  in 
what  is  termed  "  the  box,"  with  the  other  female  prisoners, 
who  were  now  arriving  on  foot 

This  was,  perhaps,  the  worst  experience  she  had  yet  en 
dured,  and  she  longed  for  the  privacy  of  her  cell  again. 
Never  before  had  she  come  in  contact  with  such  debased 
wrecks  of  humanity,  and  she  blushed  for  womanhood  as  she 
cowered  in  the  farthest  corner  and  looked  upon  her  com- 


372  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

panions — brutal  women,  with  every  vice  stamped  on  their 
bloated  features.  The  majority  were  habitual  drunkards, 
filthy  in  person  and  foul  of  tongue.  True  to  their  depraved 
instincts,  they  soon  began  to  ridicule  and  revile  one  who,  by 
contrast,  proved  how  fallen  and  degraded  they  were.  And 
yet,  not  even  from  these  did  the  girl  recoil  with  such  horror 
as  from  some  brazen  harpies  who  said  words  in  her  ear  that 
made  her  hide  her  face  with  shame.  The  officer  in  charge 
saw  that  she  was  persecuted,  and  sternly  interfered  in  her 
behalf,  but  from  their  hideous  presence  and  contact  she  could 
not  escape. 

By  some  affinity  not  yet  wholly  obliterated,  the  girl  she 
had  heard  weeping  in  the  night  shrank  to  her  side,  and  her 
swollen  eyes  and  forlorn  appearance  could  not  hide  the  fact 
that  she  was  very  young,  and  might  be  very  pretty.  Mil 
dred  knew  not  what  to  say  to  her,  but  she  took  her  hand 
and  held  it.  This  silent  expression  of  sympathy  provoked 
another  outburst  of  grief,  and  the  poor  young  creature 
sobbed  on  Mildred's  shoulder  as  if  her  heart  were  breaking. 
Mildred  placed  a  sustaining  arm  around  her,  but  her  own 
sustaining  truth  and  purity  she  could  not  impart. 

A  partition  only  separated  her  from  the  "  box" — which 
was  simply  a  large  wooden  pen  with  round  iron  bars  facing 
the  corridor — to  which  the  male  prisoners  were  brought,  one 
after  another,  by  the  policemen  who  had  arrested  them. 
The  arrival  of  the  judge  was  somewhat  delayed,  and  may  the 
reader  never  listen  to  such  language  as  profaned  her  ears 
during  the  long  hour  and  a  half  before  the  opening  of  the 
court. 

Fortunately  her  turn  came  rather  early,  and  she  at  last  was 
ushered  to  the  doorway  which  looked  upon  the  crowded 
court-room,  and  her  heart  throbbed  with  hope  as  she  singled 
out  her  mother,  Belle,  Mrs.  Wheaton,  and  Roger,  from 
among  long  lines  of  curious  and  repulsive  faces.  The  former 


"A    WISE  JUDGE."  373 

kissed  their  hands  to  her,  and  tried  to  give  wan,  reassuring 
smiles,  which  their  tears  belied.  Roger  merely  bowed  gravely, 
and  then,  with  an  expression  that  was  singularly  alert  and 
resolute,  gave  his  whole  attention  to  all  that  was  passing. 
After  recognizing  her  friends,  Mildred  turned  to  the  judge, 
feeling  that  she  would  discover  her  fate  in  his  expression  and 
manner.  Was  he  a  kindly,  sympathetic  man,  unhardened 
by  the  duties  of  his  office  ?  She  could  learn  but  little  from 
his  grave,  impassive  face.  She  soon  feared  that  she  had  slight 
cause  for  hope,  for  after  what  seemed  to  her  an  absurdly 
brief,  superficial  trial,  she  saw  two  of  her  companions  of  the 
' '  box' '  sentenced  to  three  months'  imprisonment.  The 
decision,  which  to  her  had  such  an  awful  import,  was  pro 
nounced  in  an  off-hand  manner,  and  in  the  matter-of-faet 
tone  with  which  one  would  dispose  of  bales  of  merchandise, 
and  the  floods  of  tears  and  passionate  appeals  seemingly  had 
no  more  effect  on  the  arbiter  of  their  fates  than  if  he  had 
been  a  stony  image.  She  could  not  know  that  they  were 
old  offenders,  whose  character  was  well  known  to  the  judge 
and  the  officers  that  had  arrested  them.  Such  apparent  hap 
hazard  justice  or  injustice  had  a  most  depressing  effect  upon 
her  and  the  weeping  girl  who  stood  a  little  in  advance. 

The  next  prisoner  who  appeared  before  the  bar  received 
very  different  treatment.  He  was  a  middle-aged  man,  and 
had  the  appearance  and  was  clothed  in  the  garb  of  a  gentle 
man.  With  nervously  trembling  hands  and  bowed  head, 
he  stood  before  the  judge,  who  eyed  him  keenly,  after  read 
ing  the  charge  of  intoxication  in  the  streets. 

' '  Have  you  ever  been  arrested  before  ?' '   he  asked. 

"  No  indeed,  sir,"  was  the  low,  emphatic  reply. 
Come  up  here  ;  I  wish  to  speak  with  you. ' ' 

The  officer  in  attendance  took  the  half-comprehending 
man  by  the  elbow  and  led  him  up  within  the  bar  before  the 
long  desk  which  ran  the  whole  width  of  the  court-room, 


374  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

and  behind  which  the  judge  sat  with  his  clerks  and  assist 
ants. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  the  judge,  and  the  man 
in  a  few  words  told  his  story  without  any  palliation.  With  a 
gleam  of  hope  Mildred  saw  the  expression  of  the  judge's 
face  change  as  he  listened,  and  when  at  last  he  replied,  in 
tones  so  low  that  none  could  hear  them  save  he  to  whom 
they  were  addressed,  she  saw  that  look  which  wins  all 
hearts — the  benignant  aspect  of  one  who  might  condemn  for 
evil,  but  who  would  rather  win  and  save  from  evil.  The 
man  slowly  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  speaker's  face,  and  hope 
and  courage  began  to  show  themselves  in  his  bearing.  The 
judge  brought  his  exhortation  to  a  practical  conclusion,  for 
he  said,  "  Promise  me  that  with  God's  help  you  will  never 
touch  the  vile  stuff  again. ' ' 

The  promise  was  evidently  sincere  and  hearty.  ' '  Give 
me  your  hand  on  it, ' '  said  his  Honor. 

The  man  started  as  if  he  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears, 
then  wrung  the  judge's  hand,  while  his  eyes  moistened  with 
gratitude.  "You  are  at  liberty.  Good-morning,  sir;" 
and  the  man  turned  and  walked  through  the  crowded  court 
room,  with  the  aspect  of  one  to  whom  manhood  had  been 
restored. 

Hope  sprang  up  in  Mildred's  heart,  for  she  now  saw  that 
her  fate  was  not  in  the  hands  of  a  stony-hearted  slave  of  rou 
tine.  She  looked  toward  her  relatives,  and  greeted  their  tear 
ful  smiles  with  a  wan  glimmer  of  light  on  her  own  face,  and 
then  she  turned  to  watch  the  fortunes  of  the  weeping  girl 
who  followed  next  in  order.  She  did  not  know  the  charge, 
but  guessed  it  only  too  well  from  the  judge's  face,  as  the 
officer  who  had  arrested  her  made  his  low  explanation.  She, 
too,  was  summoned  within  the  rail,  and  the  judge  began  to 
question  her.  At  first  she  was  too  greatly  overcome  by  her 
emotions  to  answer.  As  she  cowered,  tremblad,  and  sobbed, 


"A    WISE  JUDGE."  375 

she  might  well  have  been  regarded  as  the  embodiment  of 
that  shame  and  remorse  which  ovenvhelm  fallen  womanhood 
before  the  heart  is  hardened  and  the  face  made  brazen  by 
years  of  vice.  Patiently  and  kindly  the  judge  drew  from  her 
faltering  lips  some  pitiful  story,  and  then  he  talked  to  her  in 
low,  impressive  tones,  that  seemed  to  go  straight  to  her  de 
spairing  soul.  A  kind,  firm,  protecting  hand  might  then 
have  led  her  back  to  a  life  of  virtue,  for  such  had  been  her 
bitter  foretastes  of  the  fruits  of  sin  that  surely  she  would  have 
gladly  turned  from  them,  could  the  chance  have  been  given 
to  her.  The  judge  mercifully  remitted  her  punishment,  and 
gave  her  freedom.  Who  received  her,  as  she  turned  her  face 
toward  the  staring  throng  that  intervened  between  her  and 
the  street  ?  Some  large-hearted  woman,  bent  on  rescuing  an 
erring  sister  ?  Some  agent  of  one  of  the  many  costly  chari 
ties  of  the  city  ?  No,  in  bitter  shame,  no.  Only  the  vile 
madam  who  traded  on  the  price  of  her  body  and  soul,  and 
who,  with  vulture-like  eyes,  had  watched  the  scene.  She 
only  had  stood  ready  to  pay  the  fine,  if  one  had  been  im 
posed  according  to  the  letter  of  the  law.  She  only  received 
the  weak  and  friendless  creature,  from  whom  she  held  as 
pledges  all  her  small  personal  effects,  and  to  whom  she 
promised  immediate  shelter  from  the  intolerable  stare  that 
follows  such  victims  of  society.  The  girl's  weak,  pretty  face, 
and  soft,  white  hands  were  but  too  true  an  index  to  her  in 
firm  will  and  character,  and,  although  fluttering  and  reluc 
tant,  she  again  fell  helpless  into  the  talons  of  the  harpy. 
Hapless  girl !  you  will  probably  stand  at  this  bar  again,  and 
full  sentence  will  then  be  given  against  you.  The  judge 
frowned  heavily  as  he  saw  the  result  of  his  clemency,  and 
then,  as  if  it  were  an  old  story,  he  turned  to  the  next  culprit. 
Mildred  had  been  much  encouraged  as  she  watched  the  issue 
of  the  two  cases  just  described  ;  but  as  her  eyes  followed  the 
girl  wistfully  toward  the  door  of  freedom  she  encountered 


WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

the  cold,  malignant  gaze  of  the  man  who  had  charge  of  her 
department  at  the  shop,  and  who  she  instinctively  felt  was 
the  cause  of  her  shameful  and  dangerous  position.  By  his 
side  sat  the  two  women  who  had  searched  her  and  the  lead 
ing  foreman  of  the  store.  Sick  and  faint  from  apprehension, 
she  turned  imploringly  toward  Roger,  who  was  regarding 
the  floor-walker  with  such  vindictive  sternness  that  she  felt 
the  wretch's  hour  of  reckoning  would  soon  come,  whatever 
might  be  her  fate.  This  added  to  her  trouble,  for  she  feared 
that  she  was  involving  Roger  in  danger. 

No  time  was  given  for  thoughts  on  such  side  issues,  for  the 
prisoner  preceding  her  in  the  line  was  sentenced,  after  a  trial 
of  three  minutes — a  summary  proceeding  that  was  not  hope- 
inspiring. 

The  name  of  Mildred  Jocelyn  was  now  called,  and  there 
was  a  murmur  of  expectant  interest  in  the  court-room,  for 
she  was  not  by  any  means  an  ordinary  prisoner  in  appear 
ance,  and  there  were  not  a  few  present  who  knew  something 
of  the  case.  The  young  girl  ^as  pushed  before  the  bar,  and 
would  gladly  have  clung  to  it,  in  order  to  support  her  trem 
bling  form.  But  while  she  could  not  infuse  vigor  into  her 
overtaxed  muscles,  her  brave  spirit  rallied  to  meet  the  emer 
gency,  and  she  fixed  her  eyes  unwaveringly  upon  the  judge, 
who  now  for  the  first  time  noticed  her  attentively,  and  it  did 
not  escape  her  intensely  quickened  perceptions  that  his  eyes 
at  once  grew  kindly  and  sympathetic.  Sitting  day  after  day, 
and  year  after  year,  in  his  position,  he  had  gained  a  won 
derful  insight  into  character,  and  in  Mildred's  pure,  sweet 
face  he  saw  no  evidence  of  guilt  or  of  criminal  tendencies. 
It  was,  indeed,  white  with  fear,  and  thin  from  wearing  toil 
and  grief  ;  but  this  very  pallor  made  it  seem  only  more  spirit 
ual  and  free  from  earthliness,  while  every  feature,  and  the 
unconscious  grace  of  her  attitude,  bespoke  high  breeding 
and  good  blood. 


"A  WISE  JUDGE:'  377 

First,  the  officer  who  arrested  her  told  his  story,  and  then 
Ihe  elder  of  the  two  women  who  searched  her  was  summoned 
as  the  first  witness.  The  judge  looked  grave,  and  he  glanced 
uneasily  at  the  prisoner  from  time  to  time  ;  but  the  same 
clear,  steadfast  eyes  met  his  gaze,  unsullied  by  a  trace  of 
guilt.  Then  the  second  woman  corroborated  the  story  of  her 
associate,  and  the  judge  asked,  "  How  came  you  to  suspect 
the  prisoner  so  strongly  as  to  search  her  ?"  and  at  this  point 
the  floor-walker  was  summoned. 

The  vigilant  magistrate  did  not  fail  to  note  the  momentary 
glance  of  aversion  and  horror  which  Mildred  bestowed  upon 
this  man,  and  then  her  eyes  returned  with  so  deep  and 
pathetic  an  appeal  to  his  face  that  his  heart  responded,  and 
his  judgment  led  him  also  to  believe  that  there  was  error  and 
perhaps  wrong  in  the  prosecution.  Still  he  was  compelled  to 
admit  to  himself  that  the  case  looked  very  dark  for  the  girl, 
who  was  gaining  so  strong  a  hold  on  his  sympathy. 

"  I  must  inform  your  Honor,"  began  the  witness  plausi 
bly,  after  having  been  sworn,  ' '  that  laces  had  been  missed 
from  the  department  in  which  this  girl  was  employed,  and  I 
was  keenly  on  the  alert,  as  it  was  my  duty  to  be.  Some 
suspicious  circumstances  led  me  to  think  that  the  prisoner 
was  the  guilty  party,  and  the  search  proved  my  suspicions  to 
be  correct." 

"  What  were  the  suspicious  circumstances  ?" 
The  man  seemed  at  a  loss  for  a  moment.     "  Well,  your 
Honor,  she  went  to  the  cloak-room  yesterday  afternoon, ' '  he 
said. 

"  Do  not  all  the  girls  go  to  the  cloak-room  occasionally  ?" 
"  Yes,  but  there  was  something  in  her  face  and  manner 
that  fastened  my  suspicions  upon  her." 
"  What  evidences  of  guilt  did  you  detect  ?" 
' '  I  can  scarcely  explain — nothing  very  tangible.     The  evi 
dences  of  guilt  were  found  on  her  person,  your  Honor." 


3?8  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

"  Yes,  so  much  has  been  clearly  shown." 

' '  And  she  was  very  reluctant  to  be  searched,  which  would 
not  have  been  the  case  had  she  been  conscious  of  innocence. " 

The  woman  who  searched  her  was  now  asked,  ' '  Did  she 
shrink  from  search,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  betoken  guilt?" 

"  I  can't  say  that  she  did  show  any  fear  of  being  searched 
by  us,"  was  the  reply.  "  She  refused  to  be  searched  in  the 
private  office  of  the  firm." 

;<  That  is,  in  the  presence  of  men  ?  Quite  naturally  she 
did."  Then  to  the  floor- walker,  "  Have  your  relations 
with  this  girl  been  entirely  friendly?" 

"  I  am  glad  to  say  I  have  no  relations  with  her  whatever. 
My  relations  are  the  same  that  I  hold  to  the  other  girls — 
merely  to  see  that  they  do  their  duty." 

'  You  are  perfectly  sure  that  you  have  never  cherished  any 
ill-will  toward  her?" 

"  So  far  from  it,  I  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  friendly." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  the  term  friendly  ?" 

"  Well,  your  Honor"  (a  little  confusedly),  "the  term 
seems  plain  enough." 

"  And  she  did  not  reciprocate  your  friendship  ?"  was  the 
keen  query. 

"  After  I  came  to  know  her  better,  I  gave  her  no  occasion 
to  reciprocate  anything  ;  and,  pardon  me,  your  Honor,  I 
scarcely  see  what  bearing  these  questions  have  on  the  plain 
facts  in  the  case." 

A  slight  frown  was  the  only  evidence  that  the  judge  had 
noted  the  impertinent  suggestion  that  he  did  not  know  his 
business. 

' '  Are  you  perfectly  sure  that  you  cherish  no  ill-will  toward 
the  prisoner  ?' ' 

"  I  simply  wish  to  do  my  duty  by  my  employers.  I 
eventually  learned  that  her  father  was  an  opium-eater  and  a 
sot,  and  I  don't  fancy  that  kind  of  people.  That  is  my  ex- 


"A  WISE  JUDGE:'  379 

planation, ' '  he  concluded,  with  a  large  attempt  at  dignity, 
and  in  a  tone  that  he  evidently  meant  all  should  hear. 

"  Her  father  is  not  on  trial,  and  that  information  was  un 
called  for.  Have  you  any  further  testimony?"  the  judge 
asked  coldly. 

"  No,  sir,"  and  he  stepped  down  amid  a  suppressed  hiss 
in  the  court-room,  for  the  spectators  evidently  shared  in  the 
antipathy  with  which  he  had  inspired  the  keen-eyed  but  im 
passive  and  reticent  magistrate,  who  now  beckoned  Mildred 
to  step  up  close  to  him,  and  she  came  to  him  as  if  he  were 
her  friend  instead  of  her  judge.  He  was  touched  by  her 
trust ;  and  her  steadfast  look  of  absolute  confidence  made 
him  all  the  more  desirous  of  protecting  her,  if  he  could  find 
any  warrant  for  doing  so.  She  said  to  him  unmistakably  by 
her  manner,  "  I  put  myself  in  your  hands." 

"  My  child,"  the  judge  began  seriously,  yet  kindly,  "  this 
is  a  very  grave  charge  that  is  brought  against  you,  and  if  it  is 
your  wish  you  can  waive  further  trial  before  me  at  this  stage 
of  proceedings,  for  unless  you  can  prove  yourself  innocent  at 
this  preliminary  examination,  your  case  must  be  heard  before 
a  higher  court.  Perhaps  you  had  better  obtain  counsel,  and 
have  the  whole  matter  referred  at  once  to  the  grand  jury." 

"  I  would  rather  be  tried  by  you,  sir,"  Mildred  replied,  in 
a  vibrating  voice  full  of  deep,  repressed  feeling  ;  "  I  am  in 
nocent.  It  would  be  like  death  to  me  to  remain  longer  un 
der  this  shameful  charge.  I  have  confidence  in  you.  I 
know  I  am  guiltless.  Please  let  me  me  be  tried  now,  now, 
for  I  cannot  endure  it  any  longer. ' ' 

"Very  well,  then  ;"  and  he  handed  her  a  small,  grimy 
Bible,  that,  no  doubt,  had  been  kissed  by  scores  of  perjured 
lips.  But  Mildred  pressed  hers  reverently  upon  it,  as  she 
swore  to  "  tell  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth." 

After  a  few  preliminary  questions  as  to  age,  etc.,  the  jus- 


380  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

tice  said,   reassuringly,  "  Now  tell  your  story  briefly  and 
clearly. ' ' 

It  was  indeed  a  brief  story,  and  it  had  the  impress  of  truth  ; 
but  his  Honor  looked  very  grave  as  he  recognized  how  little 
there  was  in  it  to  refute  the  positive  testimony  already  given. 
"  Have  you  witnesses  ?"  he  asked. 

' '  My  mother  and  sister  are  present,  and — and — a  young 
man  who  thinks  he  knows  something  in  my  favor." 

"  I  will  hear  your  mother  first,"  said  the  judge,  believing 
that  in  her  he  would  find  the  chief  source  of  character  ;  and 
when  the  sad,  refined  gentlewoman  stood  beside  her  daugh 
ter,  he  was  all  the  more  convinced  that  the  girl  ought  to  be 
innocent,  and  that  all  his  insight  into  character  and  its  origin 
would  be  at  fault  if  she  were  not.  In  low,  eager  tones,  Mrs. 
Jocelyn  spoke  briefly  of  their  misfortunes,  and  testified  as  to 
Mildred's  conduct.  "  She  has  been  an  angel  of  patience  and 
goodness  in  our  home,"  she  said,  in  conclusion  ;  "  and  if 
this  false  charge  succeeds,  we  shall  be  lost  and  ruined  in 
deed.  My  daughter's  pastor  is  out  of  town,  and  in  our 
poverty  we  have  few  friends  who  could  be  of  any  service. 
An  old  neighbor,  Mrs.  Wheaton,  is  present,  and  will  confirm 
my  words,  if  you  wish  ;  but  we  would  thank  your  Honor  if 
you  will  call  Mr.  Roger  Atwood,  who  says  he  has  informa 
tion  that  will  aid  my  child." 

"  Very  well,  madam,"  responded  the  judge  kindly,  "  we 
will  hear  Mr.  Atwood." 

Roger  was  now  sworn,  while  Mrs.  Jocelyn  returned  to  her 
seat.  In  the  young  fellow's  frank,  honest  face  the  judge 
found  an  agreeable  contrast  with  the  ill-omened  visage  of  the 
floor-walker,  whose  good  looks  could  not  hide  an  evil  nature. 

"  I  must  beg  your  Honor  to  listen  to  me  with  patience," 
Roger  began  in  a  low  tone,  "  for  my  testimony  is  peculiar, 
and  does  not  go  far  enough  unless  furthered  by  your  Honor's 
skill  in  cross-questioning  ;"  and  in  eager  tones,  heard  only 


"A    WISE  JUDGE.1'  38* 

by  the  judge,  he  told  what  he  had  seen,  and  suggested  his 
theory  that  if  the  girl,  whom  he  had  followed  two  evenings 
before,  could  be  examined  previous  to  any  communication 
with  her  accomplice,  she  would  probably  admit  the  whole 
guilty  plot. 

The  judge  listened  attentively,  nodding  approvingly  as 
Roger  finished,  and  said,  "  Leave  me  to  manage  this  affair. 
I  wish  you  to  go  at  once  with  an  officer,  point  out  this  girl 
to  him,  and  bring  her  here.  She  must  not  have  communi 
cation  with  any  one.  Nor  must  anything  be  said  to  her 
relating  to  the  case  by  either  you  or  the  officer.  Leave  her 
wholly  to  me." 

A  subpoena  was  made  out  immediately  and  given  to  a 
policeman,  with  a  few  whispered  and  emphatic  injunctions, 
and  Roger  was  told  to  accompany  him. 

"  This  case  is  adjourned  for  the  present  You  may  sit 
with  your  mother  within  the  railing,"  he  added  kindly  to 
Mildred. 

The  floor-walker  had  been  watching  the  turn  that  the  pro 
ceedings  were  taking  with  great  uneasiness,  and  now  was 
eager  to  depart,  in  order  to  caution  the  girl  that  Roger  was  in 
pursuit  of  against  admitting  the  least  knowledge  of  the  affair  ; 
but  the  judge  was  too  quick  for  him,  and  remarked  that  he 
was  not  through  with  him  yet,  and  requested  that  he  and  the 
representative  of  the  firm  should  remain.  The  two  women 
who  had  testified  against  Mildred  were  permitted  to  depart. 
Then,  as  if  dismissing  the  case  from  his  mind,  he  proceeded 
to  dispose  of  the  other  prisoners. 

Belle  joined  her  sister,  and  greeted  her  with  great  effusive 
ness,  looking  ready  to  champion  her  against  the  world  ;  but 
they  at  last  quieted  her,  and  waited  with  trembling  impatience 
and  wonder  for  the  outcome  of  Roger's  mission. 

The  girl  who  had  been  led  to  wrong  Mildred  so  greatly  re 
turned  to  the  shop  that  morning  with  many  misgivings,  which 


382  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

were  much  increased  when  she  learned  what  had  occurred. 
She  also  telt  that  her  accomplice  had  dealt  treacherously  in 
allowing  such  serious  proceedings  against  Mildred,  for  he  had 
promised  that  she  should  be  merely  taxed  with  theft  and 
warned  to  seek  employment  elsewhere.  "  If  he  deceives  in 
one  respect  he  will  in  another,  and  I'  m  not  safe  from  arrest 
either, ' '  she  said  to  herself,  and  she  made  so  many  blunders 
in  her  guilty  preoccupation  that  she  excited  the  surprise  of 
her  companions.  As  she  was  waiting  on  a  customer  she 
heard  a  voice  remark,  "  That's  the  girl,"  and  looking  up 
she  grew  faint  and  white  as  she  saw,  standing  before  her,  a 
policeman,  who  served  his  subpoena  at  once,  saying,  "You 
must  go  with  me  immediately." 

Frightened  and  irresolute,  she  stammered  that  she  knew 
nothing  about  the  affair. 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  come  and  tell  his  Honor  so." 

"  Must  I  go  ?"  she  appealed  to  one  of  the  firm,  who  hap 
pened  to  be  near. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  examining  the  subpoena;  "go 
and  tell  all  you  know,  or  if  you  don't  know  anything,  say  so." 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  be  dragged  into  the  case — " 
she  began  brazenly. 

"  There's  the  reason,"  said  the  officer  impatiently ; 
' '  that  subpoena  has  the  power  of  bringing  any  man  or  woman 
in  the  city. ' ' 

Seeing  that  resistance  was  useless,  she  sullenly  accompa 
nied  them  to  a  street-car,  and  was  soon  in  readiness  to  be 
called  upon  for  her  testimony.  The  judge  having  disposed 
of  the  case  then  on  trial,  Mildred  was  again  summoned  to 
the  bar,  and  the  unwilling  witness  was  sent  for.  She  only 
had  time  to  cast  a  reproachful  glance  at  the  man  who,  she 
feared,  had  betrayed  her,  and  who  tried,  by  his  manner,  to 
caution  her,  when  the  judge  demanded  her  attention,  he 
having  in  the  mean  time  noted  the  fellow's  effort. 


"A  WISE  JUDGE:  383 

"  Stand  there,"  he  said,  placing  her  so  that  her  back  was 
toward  the  man  who  sought  to  signal  silence.  "  Officer, 
swear  her.  Now, ' '  he  resumed  severely,  ' '  any  deviation 
from  the  truth,  and  the  whole  truth,  will  be  perjury,  which, 
you  know,  is  a  State-prison  offence.  I  can  assure  you  most 
honestly  that  it  will  be  better  for  you,  in  all  respects,  to  hide 
nothing,  for  you  will  soon  discover  that  I  know  something 
about  this  affair." 

After  the  preliminary  questions,  which  were  asked  with 
impressive  solemnity,  he  demanded,  "  Did  you  not  leave 
the  shop  on  Tuesday  evening,  and  pass  up  the  Avenue  to 
Street?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

' '  Did  you  not  look  back  twice,  to  see  if  you  were  fol 
lowed  ?" 

"  I  may  have  looked  back." 

"  You  don't  deny  it,  then  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

"  Did  not  Mr.  Bissel,  the  floor- walker,  join  you  in 

Street,  before  you  had  gone  very  far  ?" 

"Ye — yes,  sir,"  with  a  start. 

"  Did  he  not  say  something  that  agitated  you  very  much  ?" 

' '  He  may  have  frightened  me, ' '  she  faltered. 

' '  Yes,  he  probably  did  ;  but  why  ?  Did  you  not  make  a 
strong  gesture  of  protest  against  what  he  said  ?' ' 

"  Yes,  sir,"  with  a  troubled  stare  at  the  judge. 

1 '  Did  you  not  go  on  with  him  very  quietly  and  submis 
sively,  after  a  moment  or  two  ?" 

' '  Yes,  sir, ' '  and  her  face  now  was  downcast,  and  she  be 
gan  to  tremble. 

' '  Did  you  not  enter  a  covered  alley-way,  that  led  to  tene* 
ments  in  the  rear?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  with  increasing  agitation. 

"  Well,  what  did  you  do  there  ?" 


384  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

"  Has  he  told  on  me,  your  Honor?"  she  gasped,  with  a 
sudden  flood  of  tears. 

' '  What  he  has  done  is  no  concern  of  yours.  You  are  un 
der  oath  to  tell  the  whole  truth.  There  was  a  single  gas-jet 
burning  in  the  covered  passage-way,  was  there  not?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  sobbing  violently. 

' '  Has  Miss  Mildred  Jocelyn  ever  wronged  you  ?'  * 

*'  N — no,  sir,  not  that  I  know  of." 

44  Now  tell  me  just  what  occurred  under  that  gas-jet." 

44  I'll  tell  your  Honor  the  whole  truth,"  the  girl  burst  out, 
41  if  your  Honor' 11  let  me  off  this  time.  It's  my  first  offence, 
and  we' re  poor,  and  I  was  driven  to  it  by  need,  and  he  prom 
ised  me  that  Miss  Jocelyn  wouldn't  suffer  anything  worse 
than  a  warning  to  find  another  place. ' ' 

Believing  that  her  accomplice  had  betrayed  her,  she  told 
the  whole  story  without  any  concealment,  fully  exonerating 
Mildred.  Although  the  judge  maintained  his  stern,  im 
passive  aspect  throughout  the  scene,  he  hugely  enjoyed  the 
floor-walker's  dismay  and  confusion,  and  his  tortured  in 
ability  to  warn  the  girl  to  deny  everything. 

"  Please,  your  Honor,  forgive  me  this  time,"  sobbed  the 
trembling  witness  in  conclusion,  "  and  I'll  never  do  wrong 
again. ' ' 

44  I  have  no  right  or  power  to  punish  you,"  replied  the 
judge  ;  "it  rests  wholly  with  your  employers  whether  they 
will  prosecute  you  or  not.  Send  that  floor-walker  here"  (to 
an  officer).  ' '  Well,  sir,  what  have  you  to  say  to  this  testi 
mony  ?"  he  asked,  as  the  fellow  shuffled  forward,  pale  and 
irresolute.  ' '  Remember,  you  are  still  under  oath. ' ' 

The  wily  villain,  caught  in  his  own  trap,  hesitated.  He 
was  tempted  to  deny  that  the  plot  against  Mildred  was  at  his 
instigation  ;  but,  like  the  girl,  he  saw  that  the  judge  had 
mysterious  information  on  the  subject,  and  he  could  not  tell 
how  far  this  knowledge  went.  If  he  entered  on  a  series  of 


"A   WISE  JUDGE."  385 

denials  he  might  be  confronted  by  another  witness.  The 
young  man  who  had  been  sent  to  identify  the  girl,  and  whose 
unexpected  presence  had  brought  such  disaster,  might  have 
been  concealed  in  the  passage-way,  and  so  have  seen  and 
heard  all.  With  the  fear  of  an  indictment  for  perjury  before 
his  eyes  the  fellow  began  to  whine. 

' '  I  was  only  trying  to  protect  the  interests  of  my  employ 
ers,  I  had  suspected  the  Jocelyn  girl — "  At  this  there 
arose  from  the  court-room  a  loud  and  general  hiss,  which  the 
judge  repressed,  as  he  sternly  interposed, 

' '  We  have  nothing  to  do  with  your  suspicions.  Do  you 
deny  the  testimony  ?' ' 

"  No,  sir  ;  but — " 

"  That's  enough.  No  words  ;  step  down."  Then  turn 
ing  to  Mildred,  he  said  kindly  and  courteously,  "  Miss  Joce 
lyn,  it  gives  me  pleasure  to  inform  you  that  your  innocence 
has  been  clearly  shown.  I  should  also  inform  you  that  this 
man  Bissel  has  made  himself  liable  to  suit  for  damages,  and 
I  hope  that  you  will  prosecute  him.  I  am  sorry  that  you 
have  been  subjected  to  so  painful  an  ordeal.  You  are  now 
at  liberty." 

' '  I  thank — oh,  I  thank  and  bless  your  Honor, ' '  said  Mil 
dred,  with  such  a  depth  of  gratitude  and  gladness  in  her  face 
that  the  judge  smiled  to  himself  several  times  that  day.  It 
was  like  a  burst  of  June  sunshine  after  a  storm.  While  the 
witness  was  admitting  the  facts  which  would  prove  her  guilt 
less,  Mildred  was  scarcely  less  agitated  than  the  wretched  girl 
herself ;  but  her  strong  excitement  showed  itself  not  by  tears, 
but  rather  in  her  dilated  eyes,  nervously  trembling  form,  and 
quickly  throbbing  bosom.  Now  that  the  tension  was  over 
she  sank  on  a  bench  near,  and  covering  her  eyes,  from  which 
gushed  a  torrent  of  tears,  with  her  hands,  murmured  audibly, 
' '  Thank  God  !  oh,  thank  God  !  He  has  not  deserted  me 
after  all. ' ' 


3^6  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Looks  of  strong  sympathy  were  bent  upon  her  from  all 
parts  of  the  room,  and  even  the  judge  himself  was  so  much 
affected  that  he  took  prompt  refuge  in  the  duties  of  his  office, 
and  summoning  the  foreman  of  the  shop,  said,  "  You  may 
inform  your  employers  how  matters  stand."  This  function 
ary  had  been  regarding  the  later  stage  of  the  proceedings  in 
undisguised  astonishment,  and  now  hastened  to  depart  with 
his  tidings,  the  floor-walker  following  him  with  the  aspect  of 
a  whipped  cur,  and  amid  the  suppressed  groans  and  hisses  of 
the  spectators.  The  girl,  too,  slunk  away  after  them  in  the 
hope  of  making  peace  with  her  employers. 

The  judge  now  observed  that  Roger  had  buttonholed  a  re 
porter,  who  had  been  dashing  off  hieroglyphics  that  meant  a 
spicy  paragraph  the  following  day.  Summoning  the  young 
man,  he  said,  as  if  the  affair  were  of  slight  importance, 
"  Since  the  girl  has  been  proved  innocent,  and  will  have  no 
further  relation  to  the  case,  I  would  suggest  that,  out  of 
deference  to  her  friends  and  her  own  feelings,  there  be  no 
mention  of  her  name,"  and  the  news-gatherer  good-naturedly 
acceded  to  the  request. 

A  new  case  was  called,  and  new  interests,  hopes,  and  fears 
agitated  the  hearts  of  other  groups,  that  had  been  drawn  to 
the  judgment-seat  by  the  misfortunes  or  crimes  of  those 
bound  to  them  by  various  ties. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  would  not  leave  the  place,  which  she  had  so 
dreaded,  until  Roger  could  accompany  them,  and  they  chafed 
at  every  moment  of  delay  that  prevented  their  pouring  out 
their  thanks.  But  Mildred's  heart  was  too  full  for  words. 
She  fully  understood  how  great  a  service  he  had  rendered 
her.  She  bitterly  reproached  herself  for  all  her  prejudice  in 
the  past,  and  was  in  a  mood  for  any  self-sacrifice  that  he 
would  ask.  Tears  of  deep  and  mingled  feeling  fell  fast,  and 
she  longed  to  escape  from  the  staring  crowd.  Not  before 
such  witnesses  could  she  speak  and  look  the  gratitude  she  felt 


"A    WISE  JUDGE."  387 

With  downcast  eyes  and  quivering  lips  she  followed  her 
mother — to  whom  Roger  had  given  his  arm — from  the  court 
room.  A  carriage  stood  at  the  door,  into  which  Mrs.  Joce- 
lyn  was  hurried  before  she  could  speak  ;  then  turning  so 
promptly  that  there  was  no  chance  even  for  exuberant  Belle 
or  the  effervescing  Mrs.  Wheaton  to  utter  a  syllable,  Roger 
seized  Mildred's  hand,  and  said  earnestly,  "  Thanks  for  your 
aid,  Miss  Jocelyn.  I  thought  you  were  the  bravest  girl  in 
the  world,  and  you  have  proved  it.  I  am  as  glad  as  you  are, 
and  this  is  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life.  I've  just  one 
favor  to  ask — please  rest,  and  don't  worry  about  anything- - 
not  anything.  That's  all.  Good-by,  for  I  must  be  off  to 
business  ;"  and  before  she  or  any  of  them  could  speak  he 
caught  a  swiftly  passing  street-car  and  disappeared. 


388  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

"I    AM     SO    PERPLEXED." 

THE  little  group  that  Roger  left  on  the  sidewalk  looked 
after  him  in  a  dazed  manner  for  a  moment,  and  then 
Belle  exclaimed,  a  trifle  indignantly,  ' '  Well,  I  declare,  if 
he  hasn't  thanked  you,  instead  of  you  thanking  him." 

Mildred  sprang  into  the  carriage,  feeling  that  she  must  have 
some  refuge  at  once,  and,  burying  her  face  on  her  mother's 
shoulder,  burst  into  another  passion  of  tears. 

' '  There,  there, ' '  said  Mrs.  Wheaton,  as  they  were  driven 
toward  their  home  ;  "  the  poor  child's  'eart  is  too  full  for 
hany  neat  speeches  now.  Ven  they  meets  hagain  she'  11  thank 
him  with  heyes  an'  'and,  better  than  hany  vords  'ere  hon  the 
street.  He  vas  too  bright  a  chap  to  take  his  thanks  in  this 
'ere  public  place." 

To  their  surprise,  Mildred  raised  her  head,  and  replied,  in 
strong  protest,  "  You  do  him  wrong,  Mrs.  Wheaton.  He 
was  so  modest  and  manly  that  he  wished  to  escape  all  thanks. 
He  has  taken  a  noble  revenge  on  me  for  all  my  stupid  preju 
dice.  ' ' 

"  That's  right,"  cried  ecstatic  Belle.  "  Honest  confession 
is  good  for  the  soul.  I'  11  admit  that  most  men  and  women 
are  made  of  dust — street  dust  at  that — but  Roger  Atwood  is 
pure  gold.  He  has  the  quickest  brain  and  steadiest  hand  of 
any  fellow  in  the  world,  and  he'  11  stand  up  at  the  head  before 
he' s  gray. ' ' 

Fortunately,  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  not  at  home  when  they  re- 


"I  AM  SO  PERPLEXED."  389 

turned,  and  they  had  a  chance  to  take  a  quiet  breath  after 
their  strong  excitement.  Mrs.  Wheaton,  with  many  hearty 
congratulations  and  words  of  cheer,  took  her  departure. 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  justly  solicitous  about  Mildred,  fearing  that 
the  reaction  from  an  ordeal  that  would  tax  the  strongest 
might  bring  utter  prostration  to  her  delicate  and  sensitive 
organism.  Mildred's  manner  soon  threatened  to  realize  her 
worst  fears.  She  had  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  was  faint 
from  fatigue,  and  yet,  as  the  hours  lapsed,  she  grew  more 
nervously  restless.  Her  eyes  were  hot  and  dry,  sometimes  so 
full  of  resolution  that  they  were  stern  in  their  steadfastness, 
and  again  her  face  expressed  a  pathetic  irresoluteness  and  sad 
ness  that  made  the  mother's  heart  ache. 

' '  Millie, ' '  she  whispered,  as  she  came  to  the  bed  on  which 
the  girl  was  tossing  restlessly,  "  there's  something  on  yoiu 
mind.  Mother's  eyes  are  quick  in  reading  the  face  of  hei 
child.  You  are  thinking — you  are  debating  something  that 
won't  let  you  rest,  when  you  need  rest  so  much.  Oh,  Mil 
lie  darling,  my  heart  was  growing  apathetic — it  seemed 
almost  dead  in  my  breast.  I've  suffered  on  account  of  your 
father,  till  it  seemed  as  if  I  couldn't  suffer  any  more  ;  but 
your  peril  and  your  troubled  face  teach  me  that  it  is  not 
dead,  and  that  my  best  solace  now  is  devotion  to  my  chil 
dren.  What  is  it,  Millie,  that  you  are  turning  over  in  your 
mind,  which  makes  you  look  so  desperately  sad  and  fearful, 
and  again— and  then  your  expression  frightens  me — so  deter 
mined  as  if  you  were  meditating  some  step,  which,  I  fear, 
you  ought  not  to  take  ?  Oh,  Millie,  my  child,  the  worst  that 
I  know  about  is  bad  enough,  God  knows,  but  your  face 
makes  me  dread  that  you  may  be  led  by  your  troubles  to  do 
something  which  you  would  not  think  of  were  you  less 
morbid  and  overwrought.  I  may  have  seemed  to  you  a 
poor,  weak  woman  in  all  of  our  troubles,  but  mother' s  love 
is  strong,  if  her  mind  and  body  are  not." 


39°  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

"  Mamma,  mamma,  do  not  judge  me  or  yourself  so 
harshly.  You  have  always  been  my  ideal,  mamma,  and  I 
was  thinking  of  nothing  worse  than  how  to  rescue  you  and 
the  others  from  your  desperate  straits.  How  can  we  go  on 
living  in  this  way,  your  heart  breaking,  your  poor,  frail  body 
overtaxed  with  coarse  labor,  and  Belle,  Minnie,  and  Fred  be 
coming  contaminated  by  our  dreadful  surroundings.  The 
shock  I've  received  has  awakened  me  from  my  old  apathy. 
I  see  that  while  I  just  toiled  for  daily  bread,  and  a  little  of  it 
too,  we  were  drifting  down,  down.  Papa  grows  worse  and 
worse.  Belle  is  in  danger  ;  and  what  will  become  of  Fred 
and  Minnie  if  they  remain  long  amid  such  scenes  ?  Only 
yesterday  morning  I  heard  Fred  quarrelling  with  another 
little  boy  on  the  landing,  and  lisping  out  oaths  in  his  anger. 
Oh,  mamma,  we  must  be  able  to  look  forward  to  some 
escape  from  all  this,  or  else  you  will  soon  give  way  to  de 
spair,  and  the  worst  will  come.  Oh  that  I  were  a  man  ! 
Oh  that  I  knew  how  to  do  something,  through  which  I 
could  earn  enough  to  put  papa  into  an  institution,  such  as  I 
have  read  of,  and  give  you  a  home  worthy  of  the  name. 
But  I  cannot.  I  can  only  do  what  thousands  of  others  can 
do,  and  take  my  chances  with  them  in  getting  work.  And 
now  I  seem  so  broken  down  in  body  and  soul  that  I  feel  as 
if  I  could  never  work  again.  There  seems  to  be  one  way, 
mamma,  in  which  I  can  help  you. "  And  then  she  hesi 
tated,  and  a  deep,  burning  flush  crimsoned  the  face  that  was 
so  pale  before.  "  Well,"  she  said,  at  last,  in  a  kind  of  des 
peration,  ' '  I  might  as  well  speak  plainly,  if  I  speak  at  all. 
It's  no  secret  to  you  how  Roger  Atwood  feels  toward  me, 
and  also,  mamma,  you  know  my  heart.  While  I  could  kiss 
his  hand  in  gratitude,  while  I  would  not  shrink  from  any 
suffering  for  his  sake,  to  show  how  deeply  I  appreciate  the 
priceless  service  he  has  rendered  me,  still,  mamma,  mamma, 
I'm  only  a  woman,  and  am  cursed  with  all  the  perversity  of 


"  /  AM  SO  PERPLEXED."  391 

a  woman's  heart.  Oh,  what  a  loyal  friend,  what  a  devoted 
sister  I  could  be  to  him  !  Mamma,  can't  you  understand 
me  ?' ' 

"  Yes,  Millie,"  sadly  answered  her  mother. 

"  Well,  mamma,  I'm  so  perplexed.  It  seems  for  his 
sake,  since  we  have  become  so  poor  and  disgraced,  that  I 
ought  to  refuse  his  suit.  To  the  world,  and  especially  to  his 
friends,  it  will  appear  dreadfully  selfish  that  we  should  link 
our  wretched  fortunes  to  his,  and  so  cloud  his  prospects  and 
impede  his  progress.  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  dread  such 
criticism.  And  yet,  mamma,  you  know — no,  mamma,  even 
you  cannot  understand  how  great  would  be  my  self-sacrifice, 
when  to  others  it  will  appear  that  I  am  only  too  glad  to 
cling  to  one  who  gives  some  promise  of  better  days.  But  the 
turning  point  has  now  come.  Hitherto  my  manner  toward 
Mr.  Atwood  has  been  unmistakable,  and  he  has  understood 
me  ;  and  were  he  obtuseness  itself  he  could  not  fail  to  un 
derstand  me.  But  after  what  has  happened  I  cannot  treat 
him  so  any  longer.  It  would  be  shameful  ingratitude.  In 
deed,  in  my  cell  last  night  I  almost  vowed  that  if  he 
would  prove  me  innocent — if  he  would  save  you  and  Belle 
and  the  children,  I  would  make  any  sacrifice  that  he  would 
ask.  If  I  feel  this  way  he  will  know  it,  for  he  almost  reads 
my  thoughts,  he  is  so  quick,  and  his  feeling  for  me  is  so 
deep.  And  yet,  mamma,  now  that  I  have  thought  more  I 
fear  that  in  sacrificing  my  own  heart  I  am  also  sacrificing 
him.  His  friends  will  think  so,  at  least.  He  is  so  young, 
chivalric,  and  unworldly  that  he  may  think  it  a  noble  thing 
to  help  us  fight  out  our  battle  ;  but  will  he  think  so  in  com 
ing  years  ?  Will  he  think  so  if  the  struggle  is  long  and 
hard  ?  Will  he  think  so  if  we  impede  and  retard  him  ?  Alas, 
will  he  think  so  if  he  finds  that  I  can  give  him  only  gratitude 
and  respect?  Oh,  mamma,  I  am  so  perplexed.  I  don't 
want  to  wrong  him  ;  I  can't  see  you  suffer  on  hopelessly 


392  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

and  helplessly,  and  therefore  it  seems  I  ought  to  give  l«:fl<  the 
right  to  help  us  should  he  seek  for  it,  as  I  feel  suro  he  will  if 
I  show  any  relenting.  We  could  not  be  marri^ti  for  a  long 
time  ;  but  if  we  were  engaged  he  could  do  su<ich  to  shield 
and  protect  us  all ;  and  now,  alas,  we  havo  no  protector. 
Belle  needs  one — oh,  how  sorely  she  needs  one — and  what 
would  have  been  my  fate  had  he  not  come  to  my  aid  ?  It 
would  seem  heartless  in  me  to  say  simply,  Thank  you,  sir  ; 
and  yet,  what  heart  have  I  to  give  in  excha.  ^>e  for  his  devo 
tion  ?  He  deserves  so  much,  and  I  can  giw  so  little.  Oh, 
mamma,  will  an  old  love  die  and  a  new  on*>  grow  because 
they — because  you  wish  it,  and  pray  for  it  ?  v  am  so  per 
plexed,  so  tossed  and  torn  by  my  conflicting  thoughts  and 
feelings  that  my  poor  brain  reels,  and  it  seenu.  KS  if  I  should 
lose  my  reason.  And  yet  I  must  decide  upon  some  course, 
for  if,  after  his  loyalty  to  me,  I  give  him  hope,  I'  11  not  disap 
point  him  if  I  died  a  thousand  times — no,  not  if  Vinton 
Arnold  came  and  laid  all  his  wealth  at  my  feet ;  I  can  see  his 
love  in  every  glance  of  his  eye,  still  more  can  I  feel  it  when 
he  is  near  me  ;  and  if  I  offer  him  friendship  or  a  sister's  affec 
tion,  it  will  seem  to  him  like  giving  a  stone  for  bread.  But 
I  must  offer  him  only  these  or  else  give  him  hope — a  hope 
that  it  would  now  be  dishonor  to  disappoint.  Mamma, 
mamma,  what  shall  I  do — what  ought  I  to  do  ?' ' 

During  this  outpouring  of  her  child's  soul  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
was  much  agitated,  and  wiped  tear  after  tear  from  her  eyes. 
The  impulse  of  her  loyal,  unworldly  heart  was  first  to  take 
sides  with  Mildred's  faithfulness  to  her  earliest  love,  but  her 
reason  condemned  such  a  course  so  positively  that  she  said 
all  she  could  against  it.  "  Millie,"  she  began,  falteringly  at 
first,  ' '  I  feel  with  you  and  for  you  deeply.  I  know  your 
rare  quality  of  fidelity — of  constancy.  You  are  an  old-fash 
ioned  Southern  girl  in  this  respect.  While  I  would  not  have 
you  wrong  your  heart,  you  must  not  blindly  follow  its  im- 


"I  AM  SO  PERPLEXED."  393 

pulses.  It  is  often  said  that  women  have  no  reason,  though 
some  are  calculating  enough,  Heaven  knows.  Surely,  Mil 
lie,  this  is  a  case  in  which  you  should  take  some  counsel  of 
your  reason,  your  judgment ;  and  believe  me,  darling,  I 
speak  more  for  your  sake  than  ours.  While  I  admit  that 
Roger  has  become  very  dear  to  me,  I  would  not  sacrifice  you, 
my  love,  even  in  our  sore  straits.  It  is  of  you  I  think 
chiefly.  I  cannot  endure  the  thought  that  the  future  of  my 
darling  child  may  be  utterly  blighted.  I  cannot  bear  to  think 
of  your  settling  down  into  a  weary  working-woman,  with 
nothing  to  look  forward  to  but  daily  drudgery  for  daily  bread." 

"  I  do  not  dread  that  so  much,  mamma — oh,  nothing 
like  so  much — as  a  long  and  perhaps  a  vain  effort  to  love  one 
who  has  a  sacred  right  to  love  as  well  as  loyalty. ' ' 

"Millie,  you  don't  know  how  lonely  and  desolate  your 
life  might  become.  Millie — forgive  me  for  saying  it — your 
old  love  is  utterly  vain. ' ' 

"  I  know  it,  mamma,"  said  Mildred,  with  a  low  sob. 

1 '  Therefore,  my  darling,  the  sweetness  and  goodness  of 
your  young  life  ought  not  to  be  wasted  on  that  which  is  vain 
and  empty.  If  Mr.  Arnold  were  worthy  of  your  affections 
he  would  not  have  left  you  all  this  time  without  even  a  word. 
And,  Millie,  we  may  as  well  face  the  truth  :  we  never  be 
longed  to  the  Arnolds'  world,  and  it  was  wicked  folly,  for 
which  I  suffer  hourly  remorse,  that  we  ever  tried  to  approach 
it.  If,  instead  of  attempting  to  live  like  our  rich  neighbors, 
I  had  saved  a  goodly  portion  of  your  father's  income,  all 
might  have  been  so  different ;  but  I  was  never  taught  to  save, 
and  I  was  just  blind — blind.  I  never  see  your  father  but  the 
thought  comes,  like  a  stab  in  the  heart,  I  might  have  pre 
vented  it.  Oh,  if  I  had  only  stayed  with  him  !  It  was  dur 
ing  that  fatal  separation  that  he  formed  the  habit  which  will 
cause  his  death  and  mine."  (Poor  Mrs.  Jocelyn  always  re 
mained  under  this  illusion.) 


394  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"Oh,  mamma,  mamma,  don't  talk  that  way;  I  can't 
bear  it. ' ' 

' '  I  must  prepare  you,  Millie,  darling,  for  what  I  clearly 
foresee.  Martin  is  destroying  himself,  and  I  shall  not  long 
survive  him.  Oh,  Millie,  it's  a  terrible  thing  to  love  a  weak 
man  as  I  love  your  father.  I  love  him  so  that  his  course  is 
killing  me.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  for  I  am  much  to 
blame.  Don't  interrupt  me  ;  I  am  speaking  these  bitter 
words  for  your  ultimate  good.  Your  life  is  before  you — ' ' 

"  Mamma,  how  can  my  life  be  before  me  if  you  die 
broken-hearted  ?' ' 

' '  Because  you  are  young.  You  know  that  it  would  add 
tenfold  bitterness  to  my  already  overflowing  cup  if  I  saw  no 
chance  for  you,  Belle,  and  the  little  ones.  You  may  soon 
have  to  be  mother  and  sister  both.  I  forewarn  you,  because, 
as  Roger  says,  you  are  strong  as  well  as  gentle,  and  you  must 
not  just  drift  helplessly  toward  we  know  not  what.  Oh, 
Millie,  my  poor  crushed  heart  must  have  one  consolation 
before  it  is  at  rest.  Roger  is  not,  and  never  will  be,  a  weak 
man.  It  is  not  in  his  nature  to  give  way  to  fatal  habits.  I, 
too,  with  a  woman's  eye,  have  seen  his  deep,  strong  affection 
for  you,  and  with  a  mother's  jealous  love  I  have  studied  his 
character.  He  is  a  young  giant,  Millie,  whom  you  uncon 
sciously  awoke  to  manhood.  He  comes  of  a  sturdy,  practi 
cal  race,  and  unites  to  their  shrewdness  a  chivalric  Southern 
heart  and  large  brain.  He  doesn'  t  begin  to  know,  himself, 
how  much  of  a  man  he  is,  but  the  experience  of  life  will  fast 
develop  him.  He  is  one  who  will  master  circumstances,  and 
not  be  moulded  by  them.  Obstacles  will  only  stimulate  his 
will.  Your  prejudice  and  dislike  have  not  made  him  falter 
a  moment.  In  the  heart  of  a  girl  like  you,  Millie,  I  truly 
believe  that  a  new  love  for  such  a  man  will  surely  spring  up, 
and  grow  and  strengthen  with  each  succeeding  year,  and  you 
would  be  worthy  of  him.  You  could  make  him  happy,  and 


"I  AM  SO  PERPLEXED."  395 

eventually  add  greatly  to  his  success.  He  is  sure  to  become 
eminent,  and  be  burdened  with  many  large  affairs,  and  the 
home  you  could  make  for  him  would  be  a  refuge  and  a 
resting-place  from  which  he  would  go  out  daily,  strong  and 
refreshed.  Let  his  friends  say  what  they  please  at  first  He 
has  his  own  career  to  make,  and  in  his  choice  of  you  he  has 
shown  how  unerring  and  sound  his  instincts  are,  and  you  can 
prove  them  so,  and  will,  I  think,  when  time  has  given  your 
morbid  and  unhappy  heart  its  healthful  tone.  Mrs.  Whea- 
ton  has  done  much  work  at  his  uncle's  house,  and  Mrs.  At- 
wood  talks  to  her  quite  freely.  Mrs.  Wheaton  says  they  are 
wealthy,  although  they  live  so  plainly,  and  that  Mr.  Atwood, 
Roger's  uncle,  is  wonderfully  taken  with  the  young  man, 
and  means  to  give  him  a  chance  to  climb  among  the  highest, 
if  he  continues  to  be  so  steady  and  persevering.  Of  course 
you  know  that  Roger  will  never  be  anything  else  than  steady. 
And  Mrs.  Wheaton  also  says  that  Mr.  Atwood  will,  no 
doubt,  leave  everything  to  him,  for  he  has  no  children." 

"I'm  sorry  you  have  told  me  this,"  sighed  Mildred  ;  "it 
would  have  been  hard  enough  at  best,  but  I  should  feel 
almost  mercenary  now." 

"  Oh,  Millie,  you  are  too  morbid  and  proud  for  anything," 
expostulated  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  in  whom  no  misfortune  or  sorrow 
could  wholly  blot  out  her  old,  mild  passion  for  making  good 
matches  for  her  daughters — good  matches  in  the  right  sense 
of  the  word — for  she  would  look  for  worth,  or  what  seemed 
worth  to  her,  as  well  as  the  wealth  that  is  too  often  considered 
solely.  She  had  sought  to  involve  Vinton  Arnold  by  inno 
cent  wiles,  and  now,  in  pathetic  revival  of  her  old  trait,  she 
was  even  more  bent  on  providing  for  Mildred  by  securing  a 
man  after  her  own  heart  Love  for  her  daughter,  far  more 
than  ambition,  was  the  mainspring  of  her  motive,  and  surely 
her  gentle  schemes  were  not  deserving  of  a  very  harsh  judg 
ment.  She  could  not  be  blamed  greatly  for  looking  with 


396  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

wistful  eyes  on  the  one  ray  of  light  falling  on  her  darkening 
path. 

After  a  brief,  troubled  silence  Mrs.  Jocelyn  resumed,  with 
pathos  and  pleading  in  her  voice,  "Millie,  darling,  if  this 
could  all  be,  it  would  brighten  my  last  days." 

' '  There,  there,  mamma ;  as  far  as  I  can  carry  out  your 
wishes,  it  shall  be.  I  had  already  virtually  promised  it, 
and  I  should  be  perverse  indeed  could  I  not  do  all — all  in 
my  power  to  brighten  your  sad  life.  But,  darling  mamma, 
you  must  promise  to  live  in  return.  A  palace  would  be  des 
olate  if  you  were  not  seated  in  the  snuggest  corner  of  the 
hearth.  I'll  try  to  love  him  ;  I  know  I  ought  to  give  my 
whole  heart  to  one  who  is  so  worthy,  and  who  can  do  so 
much  to  brighten  your  life." 

"  Blessings  on  you,  Millie.  You  will  soon  learn  to  return 
all  his  affection.  You  are  both  young,  and  it  will  probably 
be  years  before  you  can  be  married.  In  the  mean  time  you 
will  have  a  protector  and  friend  who  will  have  the  right  to  aid 
you.  You  were  slowly  dying  for  want  of  air  and  change  and 
hope.  You  worked  all  day,  and  shut  yourself  up  in  this 
miserable  place  at  night,  and  it  could  not  last ;  as  your 
affianced  he  can  take  your  part  against  the  world,  and  protect 
Belle  ;  and  during  the  years  while  he  is  making  his  way  up 
ward,  you  will  learn  to  love  him.  You  will  become  interested 
in  his  studies,  hopes,  and  prospects.  You  will  encourage, 
and  at  the  same  time  prevent  undue  application,  for  no  man 
knows  how  to  take  care  of  himself.  He  can  be  our  deliverer, 
and  you  his  good  angel.  Your  relations  and  long  engage 
ment  may  not  be  exactly  conventional  ;  but  he  is  not  con 
ventional,  neither  is  your  need  nor  our  sad  fortunes.  Since 
God  has  put  within  our  reach  this  great  alleviation  of  our  sor 
row,  ought  we  to  refuse  it  ?" 

"  Set  your  mind  at  rest,  mamma;  you  have  made  duty 
plain.  I  will  do  my  best,  and  it  now  all  rests  with  Roger." 


"I  AM  SO  PERPLEXED."  397 

"  Millie,  you  are  a  dear,  good  child,"  said  the  mother 
brokenly,  and  with  smiles  shining  like  light  through  her 
tears  ;  and  after  a  close  embrace  she  went  out,  closing  the 
door  that  the  weary  girl  might  rest  at  last 

When  alone,  Mildred  turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and 
breathed,  like  the  lowest  and  saddest  note  of  a  wind-touched 
harp,  "Vinton,  Vinton  Arnold,  farewell  forever.  I  must 
look  for  you  no  more — I  must  think  of  you  no  more.  Oh, 
perverse  heart,  be  still  !" 

But  a  decision  had  been  reached,  and  her  perplexed  mind 
had  at  last  found  the  rest  of  a  fixed  resolve.  Then  nature 
asserted  her  right,  and  she  slept  long  and  heavily.  When 
she  awoke,  the  lamp  was  lighted  in  the  one  living-room, 
from  which  came  the  sounds  of  an  unsteady  step  and  a  thick, 
rough  voice.  She  trembled,  for  she  knew  that  her  father  had 
come  home  again  intoxicated — an  event  that  was  becoming 
terribly  frequent  of  late.  She  felt  too  weak  and  nerveless  to 
go  out  and  look  upon  their  living  disgrace,  and  lay  still  with 
long,  sighing  breaths.  "  Even  Mr.  Atwood  will  turn  from 
us  in  disgust,  when  he  realizes  papa's  degradation,"  she 
thought  "  Alas  !  can  it  be  right  to  cloud  his  bright  young 
life  with  such  a  shameful  stain  !  Oh,  if  it  were  not  selfish,  I 
could  wish  to  die  and  escape  from  it  all. ' ' 

At  last  the  heavy,  shuffling  step  passed  into  the  adjoining 
bedroom,  and  soon  the  wretched  man  was  in  stupor.  As 
Mildred  came  out  she  saw  Belle,  who  had  returned  from  her 
work,  looking  toward  the  room  in  which  her  iather  slept,  with 
a  lowering,  reckless  expression  that  made  her  sister  shudder. 

Mildred  tried  to  banish  evil  thoughts  by  putting  her  arm 
around  the  young  girl's  neck  and  kissing  her  between  the 
eyes.  "  Don't  look  so,  Belle,"  she  whispered. 

"  Where  is  that  to  end  ?"  Belle  asked,  in  a  strange,  harsh 
voice,  pointing  toward  the  room.  "  Millie,  I  can't  stand 
this  life  much  longer." 


39^  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

' '  Oh,  Belle,  don' t  forget  there  is  a  heaven  beyond  this 
life." 

"  It's  too  far  beyond.  Look  here,  Millie  ;  since  God 
don't  answer  mamma's  prayers,  I  haven't  much  faith  in  any 
thing.  See  what  undeserved  trouble  came  upon  you  too. 
If  it  hadn'  t  been  for  Roger  you  would  have  been  in  prison 
to-night,  and  we'd  have  been  alone  here  with  a  drunken 
father.  How  can  one  have  faith  and  try  to  be  good  when 
such  things  happen  ?" 

"Belle,"  said  Mildred,  with  a  solemnity  that  made  the 
reckless,  discouraged  girl  turn  pale,  "  you  had  better  take 
a  knife  from  that  table  and  stab  mamma  than  do  anything 
wrong. ' ' 

"  Oh,  hush  !"  whispered  Belle,  for  Mrs.  Jocelyn  now  en 
tered  with  the  children,  whom  she  was  glad  to  have  away 
when  the  unnatural  father  returned,  even  though  she  knew 
they  were  with  the  wild  young  Arabs  of  the  tenement. 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART.  399 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 
A  WOMAN'S  HEART. 

MRS.  JOCELYN  and  her  daughters  were  silent  and 
depressed  during  their  meagre  supper,  for  they  never 
could  become  accustomed  to  the  terrible  skeleton  in  their 
household.  When  Mr.  Jocelyn  confined  himself  solely  to 
opium  he  was  not  so  revolting,  but  common,  beastly  intoxi 
cation  was  unendurable.  They  felt  that  it  was  brutalizing 
his  very  soul,  and  becoming  a  millstone  around  their  necks 
which  must  drag  them  down  to  some  unknown  abyss  of  in 
famy.  Mechanically  they  went  through  the  motions  of  eat 
ing,  the  mother  and  daughters  forcing  down  the  little  food 
they  could  afford,  and  the  children  ravenously  devouring  all 
that  was  given  to  them.  As  Mildred  saw  the  mother  trying 
to  slip  unnoticed  her  almost  untasted  supper  from  her  plate 
to  Fred's,  she  laid  a  hand  upon  her  arm  and  said, 

"  No,  mamma  ;  remember  you  are  to  live,"  she  added  in 
a  low  whisper,  and  the  poor  creature  tried  to  smile  and  was 
submissive. 

With  a  pathetic  maintenance  of  their  old-time  habits,  they 
had  scarcely  cleared  away  the  supper-table.,  put  the  children  to 
rest,  and  made  the  poor  little  place  as  neat  and  inviting  as 
possible,  when  Mr.  Wentworth  appeared,  followed  by  Roger. 
Mildred  had  been  expecting  the  latter  with  trepidation,  Belle 
with  impatieMce  ;  and  the  hard,  lowering  look  on  the  face  of 
the  young  girl  gave  way  to  one  of  welcome  and  pleasure,  for 
if  Belle's  good  moods  were  apt  to  be  transient,  so  were  her 
evil  ones,  and  the  hearty,  healthy  spirits  of  the  young  fellow 


4°0  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

were  contagious.  Mildred  was  greatly  relieved  to  see  Mr. 
Wentworth,  for  while  she  had  fully  resolved  to  yield  to 
Roger's  suit,  her  heart,  despite  her  will,  welcomed  delay. 
She  was  also  glad  that  her  pastor  was  present,  for  she  could 
now  show  her  strong  gratitude  without  fear  of  immediate  and 
embarrassing  results.  She  was  therefore  more  prompt  even 
than  Belle,  and,  taking  the  young  man's  hand  in  both  of  her 
own,  she  said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 

"  Why  didn't  you  let  me  thank  you  this  morning?  My 
gratitude  has  been  growing  every  moment,  and  you  must 
take  it  all  or  I  shall  sink  under  it.  Mr.  Wentworth,  I  should 
have  been  in  some  horrible  prison  to-night,  with  my  heart 
breaking  from  sorrow  and  shame,  if  it  were  not  for  this  kind, 
generous  friend,  Mr.  Atwood.  I  long  cherished  an  un 
reasoning  prejudice  against  you,  and  showed  it  openly. 
You  have  taken  a  strange  revenge.  No  Southern  gentleman 
could  have  acted  more  nobly,  and  a  Southern  girl  could  not 
use  stronger  praise  than  that." 

Roger's  hand,  usually  so  strong  and  steady,  trembled. 
These  words,  warm  from  the  heart  of  the  girl  who  had 
hitherto  been  so  distant  and  unapproachable,  almost  took 
away  his  breath.  ' '  Please  don' t, "  he  faltered.  ' '  Such 
gratitude — such  words — from  you  oppress  me.  I  don't 
deserve  such  thanks.  Any  decent  man  would  have  been 
glad  to  save  one  who  was  so  good  and  so  wronged,  and  I 
shall  always  regard  it  as  the  luckiest  event  of  my  life  that  I 
happened  to  be  the  one  to  aid  you.  Oh,  you  don' t  know, 
you  never  can  know  what  immense  good-fortune  it  was. ' ' 
Then,  as  if  fearing  he  might  lose  his  self-control,  he  broke 
hastily  away  to  greet  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  but  Belle  caught  him  with 
the  impulse  of  the  warm-hearted  sister  she  had  become,  and 
throwing  her  arm  around  his  neck  exclaimed,  "I'm  going 
to  pay  you  with  the  best  coin  I  have. ' '  And  she  kissed  him 
again  and  again. 


A  WOMAN '  S  HE  A  KT.  401 

"  Dh,  Jupiter  !"  gasped  the  blushing  youth.  "  Bless  that 
floor-walker  and  all  his  deviltry  !  I  shall  let  him  off  just  a 
little  for  this." 

"  No,  don't.  I'll  give  you  another  kiss  if  you'll  get  even 
with  him,  "  Belle  whispered. 

"  It's  a  bargain,"  he  said  in  her  ear,  and  Belle  ratified  the 
compact  immediately. 

' '  Oh, ' '  thought  Mildred,  in  the  depths  of  her  heart,  ' '  if 
it  were  only  Belle  instead  of  me  !" 

Mrs.  Jocelyn'  s  greeting  was  scarcely  less  demonstrative  than 
Belle' s,  but  there  was  a  motherly  tenderness  in  it  that  brought 
tears  into  the  young  fellow's  eyes.  "  Blessings  on  you,  my 
dear  good  boy,"  she  murmured,  "  and  a  mother's  blessing 
will  do  you  no  harm." 

"  Look  here,"  said  Roger  brusquely,  "  if  you  don't  let 
up  on  a  fellow  I  shall  make  a  confounded  fool  of  myself. ' ' 
And  his  lip  quivered  as  if  he  were  a  boy  in  truth. 

Mr.  Wentworth,  who  in  their  strong  feeling  had  been  quite 
ignored,  at  first  looked  on  with  smiling  sympathy.  Mildred 
had  given  him  the  hand  that  Roger  released,  and  holding  it 
in  a  warm  clasp  he  did  not  speak  at  first,  but  watched  a 
scene  that  had  for  him  the  attractions  of  a  real  drama.  He 
now  did  not  help  Roger  much  by  saying,  in  his  hearty  way, 
"  That's  right ;  lay  it  on  strong  ;  he  deserves  all,  and  more. 
Miss  Mildred,  I  have  been  yellow  with  envy  for  the  last  two 
hours  because  I  was  absent.  I  would  have  eulogized  you  so 
in  court  that  the  judge  would  have  addressed  you  as  Saint  Mil 
dred,  and  yet  it's  but  honest  to  say  that  you  would  have  gone 
to  jail  like  many  a  saint  before  you  had  not  Roger  got  hold 
of  the  facts  which  enabled  the  judge  to  prove  you  innocent. 
The  law  is  awfully  matter-of-fact,  and  that  lace  on  your  per 
son  had  to  be  accounted  for." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  cried  Belle,  "  tell  us  everything.  We've 
been  dying  with  curiosity  all  day,  and  you've  been  so  mys- 


402  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

terious  and  important,  and  have  put  on  such  airs,  that  you 
quite  awed  me.  Seems  to  me  that  for  a  country  boy  you  are 
blossoming  fast." 

1 '  It  isn'  t  necessary  for  a  country  boy  to  be  a  fool,  espe 
cially  when  he  has  eyes, ' '  replied  Roger  in  an  off-hand  way. 
"  It's  all  simple  enough.  I  happened  to  be  passing  the  store 
where  Miss  Mildred — " 

' '  Happened  to  be  passing  !  How  often  did  you  happen 
to  pass  ?"  Belle  interrupted,  with  a  face  full  of  mischief. 

"  You  are  not  a  judge,  ma'am,  and  so  can't  cross-ques 
tion,  ' '  he  answered,  with  a  quick  blush  but  a  defiant  little 
nod,  ' '  and  if  you  were,  no  one  is  obliged  to  incriminate 
himself.  I  was  merely  passing,  and  the  movements  of  that 
scamp,  Bissel,  slightly  awakened  my  curiosity,  and  I  followed 
him  and  the  girl.  I  was  exceedingly  fortunate,  and  saw 
enough  to  enable  the  judge  to  draw  from  the  girl  the  whole 
story.  Now  you  see  what  a  simple,  prosaic  part  I  played. 
Miss  Jocelyn,  in  keeping  up  so  bravely  through  scenes  and 
experiences  that  were  perfectly  horrible  to  her,  is  the  heroine 
of  the  piece.  By  Jove  ! — beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Wentworth 
— it  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  see  how  she  looked  her  inno 
cence  into  the  heart  and  mind  of  the  judge.  I  saw  the  judi 
cial  frost  in  his  eyes  melting  like  two  icicles  on  the  south  side 
of  a  barn.  Oh,  the  judge  could  see  as  far  into  a  millstone 
as  the  next  man,"  he  continued,  laughing,  as  if  he  relished 
the  memory  hugely.  "  After  those  horrid  old  hags  were 
sent  aiong  so  fast  to  where  they  belonged,  he  looked  when 
Miss  Jocelyn  appeared  as  if  a  whole  picture  gallery  were 
before  him.  He  could  keep  up  his  official  regulation  man 
ner,  but  his  eyes  paid  a  certain  prisoner  many  compliments." 

' '  Roger,  you'  ve  got  the  eyes  of  a  lynx, ' '  said  Belle,  and 
Mildred  was  human  enpugh  tp  show  the  pleasure  she  felt  at 
his  words. 

"  Nonsense,"   replied  the  young  fellow  in  sudden  con- 


A  WO  MA  N '  S  HE  A  XT.  4°3 

fusion.     "Any  one  who  has  learned  to  hunt  well  gets  a 

^•'ThTjudge's  eyes  at  least  were  not  at  all  to  blame," 
added  Mr  Wentworth,  laughing,  and  looking  at  Mildred  s 
kindly  and  admiringly  that  the  color  which  was  stealing  into 
her  face  deepened  rapidly.     "  Well,  to  come  down  to  busi 
ness      Roger  and  I  have  been  to  see  your  employers,  and 
we  talked  to  them  rather  strongly.     While  they  insist  that 
they  were  misled  and  not  to  blame,  they  felt  remorseful   and 
we  struck  while  they  were  in  their  regretful  mood.     Thej 
give  you  a  week's  vacation,  and  send  you  twenty-five  dollars 
as  a  small  compensation  for  what  you  have  suffered. 
«'  I  don't  want  it,"  cried  Mildred  indignantly. 
"Oh  yes   you  do;  besides  it's  only  spoiling  the 
tines      They  had  already  discharged  that  scoundrel  Bissel, 
and  ihey  intend  prosecuting  the  girl.     They  apologize  t 
you  and  promise  to  raise  your  wages,  but  I  think  I  can 
obtain  enough  sewing  and  fancy  work  to  render •  ,t  unneces 
sary  for  you  to  go  back  unless  you  prefer  it.     I  don  t  .an 
to  think  of  your  being  subjected  to  that  barbarous  rule  of 
Ending  any  longer.     I  know  of  a  lady  on  Fifth  Avenue 
To  is  a  hosl  if  she  once  becomes  interested  in  any  one,  and 
through  her  I  think  I  can  enlist  enough  people  to  keep  you 
busy      I  feel  sure  she  will  be  our   ally  when  she  knows 
11  " 

•  'Oh   if  I  could  only  stay  with  mamma  and  work  at  home, 
I  should  be  so  glad,"  was  the  young  girl's  response. 

• '  Well   I  must  have  one  promise  first,  and  your  conscience 
should  lead  you  to  make  it  honestly.     You  must  give  me 
our  word  that  you  will  not  shut  yourself  up  from  light,  air 
Ld  recreation.      You  must  take  a  walk  every  day  ,    yo 
must  go  out  with  your  sister  and  Roger,  and  have  a  go, 
Snc  a?  often  as  possible.     If  I  find  you  sewing  and  mop, ng 
here  all  the  time,  I  shall  feel  hurt  and  despondent. 


4°4  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Millie,  the  laws  of  health  are  just  as  much  God's  laws  as  the 
Ten  Commandments.'' 

"  I  feel  you  are  right,"  she  faltered.  Then  she  covered 
her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed,  "  But  papa,  papa. 
Mr,  Wentworth,  since  all  know  it  now,  you  must  know 
the  truth  that  is  worse  than  death  to  us.  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted 
to  hide  where  no  one  could  ever  see  me  again  ;  I  fear  we 
do  Mr.  Atwood  a  wrong  in  permitting  him  to  be  so  friendly. ' ' 

Roger  towered  up  until  he  "  looked  six  feet  six,"  as  Belle 
remarked  afterward,  and,  coming  straight  to  the  speaker,  he 
took  her  hand  and  said,  "  Miss  Jocelyn,  when  I'm  ashamed 
to  be  seen  with  you  and  Belle,  I'  11  strike  hands  with  Bissel  in 
the  sneak-thieving  line.  I  ask  for  no  prouder  distinction 
than  to  be  trusted  by  your  mother  and  by  you. ' ' 

"Roger  has  settled  that  question,  and  shown  himself  a 
sensible  fellow, ' '  resumed  Mr.  Wentworth,  with  an  emphatic 
and  approving  nod.  "  Since  you  have  spoken  of  a  subject 
so  deeply  painful,  I  will  speak  plainly  too.  There  are  plenty 
of  people,  I  admit,  who  treat  the  families  of  wrong-doers  as 
if  their  unspeakable  misfortune  were  their  fault ;  and  in  a 
certain  sense  this  tendency  is  wholesome,  for  it  has  a  great 
restraining  influence  on  those  tempted  to  give  way  to  evil. 
But  this  tendency  should  not  be  carried  to  cruel  lengths  by 
any  one,  and  there  are  those  who  are  sufficiently  just  to  dis 
criminate  and  feel  the  deepest  sympathy — as  I  do.  While  it 
would  be  in  bad  taste  for  you  and  Miss  Belle  to  ignore  this 
trouble,  and  flaunt  gayly  in  public  places,  it  would  be  pos 
itively  wicked  to  let  your  trouble  crush  out  health,  life,  and 
hope.  You  are  both  young,  and  you  are  sacredly  bound  to 
make  the  best  and  the  most  of  the  existence  that  God  has 
bestowed  upon  you.  You  have  as  good  a  right  to  pure  air 
and  sunshine  as  I  have,  and  as  good  a  right  to  respect  while 
you  maintain  your  present  character.  It  would  do  your 
father  no  good,  it  would  break  your  mother's  heart,  if  you 


A  WOMAN ' S  HEAR  T.  405 

followed  your  morbid  impulses.  It  would  only  add  to  your 
father's  remorse.  I  fear  his  craving  for  the  poisons  that  are 
destroying  him  has  become  a  disease,  and  that  it  is  morally 
impossible  for  him  to  refrain. ' ' 

' '  Do  you  think — would  it  be  possible  to  put  him  into  an 
institution,"  Mildred  faltered. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  expensive,  and  yet  if  he  will  go  to  one 
and  make  an  honest  effort  to  be  cured,  perhaps  the  money 
might  be  raised." 

"Oh,"  cried  Mildred,  "we'd  starve  almost,  we'd  work 
night  and  day  to  give  him  a  chance. ' ' 

"  The  money  shall  be  raised,"  said  Roger  quietly.  "  I've 
saved  nearly  all  my  wages,  and — " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Atwood,"  burst  out  Mildred  impetuously, 
"  this  would  be  far  better  than  saving  me  from  prison.  I 
would  pay  you  back  every  penny  if  I  toiled  all  my  life,  and 
if  papa  could  be  his  old  self  once  more  we  would  soon  regain 
all  that  we  have  lost."  Then  a  sudden  passion  of  sobs 
shook  her  slight  form.  "Oh,"  she  gasped  brokenly,  "I 
could  die — I  could  suffer  anything  to  save  papa. ' ' 

' '  Mr.  Wentworth, ' '  said  the  wife,  with  a  look  in  her  large 
tearless  blue  eyes  which  they  never  forgot,  ' '  we  will  live  in 
one  room,  we'll  spend  only  enough  for  bare  existence,  if 
you'll  help  us  in  this  matter."  Then  putting  her  arms 
around  Roger's  neck  she  buried  her  face  on  his  breast  and 
murmured,  "  You  are  like  a  son  to  me,  and  all  there  is  left 
of  my  poor  crushed  heart  clings  to  you.  If  I  could  see 
Martin  the  man  he  was,  I  could  die  in  peace." 

"  He  shall  have  the  chance  of  the  best  and  richest,"  said 
Roger  brokenly.  "  I  ask  nothing  better  than  to  have  a 
hand  in  saving  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Jocelyn  must  have  been." 

Then  was  Roger's  hour  and  opportunity,  and  he  might  at 
that  time  have  bound  Mildred  to  him  by  vows  that  the  girl 
would  sooner  perish  than  break.  Indeed  in  her  abounding 


4°6  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

gratitude,  and  with  every  generous,  unselfish  chord  in  her 
soul  vibrating,  even  his  eyes  could  have  been  deceived,  and 
he  might  easily  have  believed  that  he  had  won  her  heart.  But 
there  was  neither  policy  nor  calculation  in  his  young  enthusi 
asm.  His  love  truly  prompted  his  heart,  but  it  was  a  heart 
abounding  in  good,  unselfish  impulses,  if  sufficient  occasion 
called  them  forth.  He  loved  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Belle  scarcely 
less  than  his  own  mother  and  sister,  and  yet  with  a  different 
affection,  a  more  ideal  regard.  They  appealed  to  his  imagi 
nation  ;  their  misfortunes  made  them  sacred  in  his  eyes,  and 
aroused  all  the  knightly  instincts  which  slumber  in  every 
young,  unperverted  man.  Chief  of  all,  they  belonged  to  Mil 
dred,  the  girl  who  had  awakened  his  manhood,  and  to  whom 
he  had  felt,  even  when  she  was  so  cold  and  prejudiced,  that 
he  owed  his  larger  life  and  his  power  to  win  a  place  among 
men.  Now  that  she  was  so  kind,  now  that  she  was  willing 
to  be  aided  by  him  in  her  dearest  hopes,  he  exulted,  and  life 
grew  rich  in  tasks  for  which  the  reward  seemed  boundless. 
The  hope  would  come  to  him,  as  Mildred  rose  to  say  good- 
by  with  a  look  that  he  had  never  seen  on  any  human  face 
before,  that  she  might  soon  give  him  something  warmer  and 
better  than  gratitude  ;  but  if  she  could  not  soon,  he  would 
wait,  and  if  she  never  could  return  his  love,  he  proposed  to 
be  none  the  less  loyal  as  a  friend. 

Indeed  the  young  girl's  expression  puzzled  him.  The 
old  pride  was  all  gone,  and  she  gave  him  the  impression  of 
one  who  is  conquered  and  defenceless,  and  who  is  ready  to 
yield  anything,  everything  to  the  victor.  And  this  ill-defined 
impression  was  singularly  true,  for  she  was  in  a  passion  of 
self-sacrifice.  She  felt  that  one  who  had  been  so  generous 
and  self -forgetful  had  a  right  to  all  that  a  true  man  could 
ask,  and  that  it  would  be  base  in  her  to  refuse.  The  greater 
the  sacrifice  the  more  gladly  she  would  make  it,  in  order  that 
«he  too  might  prove  that  a  Southern  girl  could  not  be  sur- 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART.  4° 7 

passed  in  noblesse  oblige  by  a  Northern  man.  She  was  in  one 
of  those  supreme  moods  in  which  men  and  women  are  swayed 
by  one  dominant  impulse,  and  all  other  considerations  be 
come  insignificant.  The  fact  that  those  she  loved  were  look 
ing  on  was  no  restraint  upon  her  feeling,  and  the  sympa 
thizing  presence  of  the  clergyman  added  to  it.  Indeed  her 
emotion  was  almost  religious.  The  man  who  had  saved  her 
from  prison  and  from  shame — far  more  :  the  man  who  was 
ready  to  give  all  he  had  to  rescue  her  fallen  father — was  be 
fore  her,  and  without  a  second's  hesitation  she  would  have 
gone  into  a  torture-chamber  for  the  sake  of  this  generous 
friend.  She  wanted  him  to  see  his  absolute  power. 
She  wanted  him  to  know  that  he  had  carried  her  preju 
dice,  her  dislike  by  storm,  and  had  won  the  right  to  dic 
tate  his  terms.  Because  she  did  not  love  him  she  was  so 
frank  in  her  abandon.  If  he  had  held  her  heart's  love 
she  would  have  been  shy,  were  she  under  tenfold  greater 
obligations.  She  did  not  mean  to  be  unmaidenly — she 
was  not  so,  for  her  unconscious  delicacy  saved  her — but 
she  was  at  his  feet  as  truly  as  the  ' '  devotee' '  is  prostrate  and 
helpless  before  the  car  of  Juggernaut.  But  Roger  was  no 
grim  idol,  and  he  was  too  inexperienced,  too  modest  to  un 
derstand  her.  As  he  held  her  throbbing  palm  he  looked  a 
little  wonderingly  into  her  flushed  face  and  tear-gemmed 
eyes  that  acknowledged  him  lord  and  master  without  reserve  ; 
then  he  smiled  and  said  in  a  low,  half-humorous  tone,  "  I 
sha'n't  be  an  ogre  to  you — you  won't  be  afraid  of  me  any 
longer,  Miss  Mildred  ?" 

"  No,"  she  replied  impetuously  ;  "  you  are  the  truest  and 
best  friend  a  woman  ever  had.  Oh,  I  know  it — I  know  it 
now.  After  what  you  said  about  papa,  I  should  despise 
myself  if  I  did  not  know  it. ' ' 

She  saw  all  his  deep,  long-repressed  passion  leap  into  his 
face  and  eyes,  and  in  spite  of  herself  she  recoiled  from  it  as 


4<-8  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

from  a  blow.  Ah,  Mildred,  your  will  is  strong,  your  grati 
tude  is  boundless,  your  generous  enthusiasm  had  swept  you 
away  like  a  tide,  but  your  woman's  heart  is  stronger  and 
greater  than  all,  and  he  has  seen  this  truth  unmistakably. 
The  passion  died  out  of  his  face  like  a  flame  that  sinks  down 
to  the  hidden,  smouldering  fire  that  produced  it.  He  gave 
her  hand  a  strong  pressure  as  he  said  quietly,  "  I  am  indeed 
your  friend — never  doubt  it;"  then  he  turned  away  de 
cidedly,  and  although  his  leave-taking  from  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
and  Belle  was  affectionate,  they  felt  rather  than  saw  there  was 
an  inward  struggle  for  self-mastery,  which  made  him,  while 
quiet  in  manner,  anxious  to  get  away. 

Mr.  Wentworth,  who  had  been  talking  with  Mrs.  Jocelyn, 
observed  nothing  of  all  this,  and  took  his  leave  with  assur 
ances  that  they  would  see  him  soon  again. 

Mildred  stood  irresolute,  full  of  bitter  self-reproach.  She 
took  an  impulsive  step  toward  the  door  to  call  Roger  back, 
but,  checking  herself,  said  despairingly,  "  I  can  deceive 
neither  him  nor  myself.  Oh,  mamma,  it  is  of  no  use." 
And  indeed  she  felt  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  carry  out 
the  scheme  that  promised  so  much  for  those  she  loved.  As 
the  lightning  flash  eclipses  the  sun  at  noonday,  so  all  of  her 
gratitude  and  self-sacrificial  enthusiasm  now  seemed  but  pale 
sickly  sentiment  before  that  vivid  flame  of  honest  love — that 
divine  fire  which  consumes  at  touch  every  motive  save  the  one 
for  the  sacred  union  of  two  lives. 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  such  a  man  as  Roger  Atwood  look  at 
me  as  he  looked  at  you, "  said  Belle  indignantly.  "  I  would 
not  send  him  away  with  a  heartache. 

"  Would  to  Heaven  it  had  been  you,  Belle  !"  replied 
Mildred  dejectedly.  "  I  can't  help  it — I'm  made  so,  and 
none  will  know  it  better  than  he." 

"  Don't  feel  that  way,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Jocelyn  ; 
"  time  and  the  thought  of  what  Roger  can  do  for  us  will 


A  WOMAN'S  HEART. 

work  great  changes.  You  have  years  before  you.  If  he 
will  help  us  save  your  father — " 

"  Oh,  mamma,  I  could  shed  for  him  all  the  blood  left  in 
my  body. ' ' 

"  Nonsense  !"  cried  the  matter-of-fact  Belle.  "  He  doesn't 
wunt  your  blood ;  he  only  wants  a  sensible  girl  who  will 
love  him  as  he  deserves,  and  who  will  help  him  to  help  us 
all/' 

Mildred  made  a  despairing  gesture  and  went  to  her  room. 
She  soon  reappeared  with  a  quilt  and  a  pillow,  and  placing 
them  on  the  floor  beside  the  low  bed  in  which  the  children 
slept,  said,  "  I'll  stay  here,  and  you  take  my  place  with 
Belie,  mamma.  No,"  she  added  resolutely,  as  her  mother 
began  to  remonstrate  ;  "  what  I  resolve  upon  I  intend  to  do 
hereafter,  even  to  the  least  thing.  You  shall  not  go  near  the 
room  where  papa  is  to-night." 

Throughout  the  evening,  while  love,  duty,  and  generous 
sympathy  planned  for  his  redemption  ;  throughout  the  long 
night,  while  the  sad-hearted  wife  prayed  for  success  in  their 
efforts,  the  husband  and  father  lay  shrouded  in  the  heavy, 
rayless  darkness  of  a  drunken  stupor. 


A10  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 


CHAPTER   XXXVII. 

STRONG     TEMPTATION. 

J  TT  7"ELL,  I  must  admit  that  I  have  rarely  been  so 
VV  touched  and  interested  before,"  said  Mr.  Went- 
worth,  as  he  and  Roger  walked  homeward  together ;  ' '  and 
that  is  saying  much,  for  my  calling  brings  human  life  before 
me  in  almost  every  aspect.  Mildred  Jocelyn  is  an  unusual 
girl.  Until  to-day  I  thought  her  a  trifle  cold,  and  even  in 
capable  of  very  deep  feeling.  I  thought  pride — not  a  com 
mon  pride,  you  know,  but  the  traditional  and  proverbial 
pride  of  a  Southern  woman — her  chief  characteristic,  but  the 
girl  was  fairly  volcanic  with  feeling  to-night.  I  believe  she 
would  starve  in  very  truth  to  save  her  father,  though  of 
course  we  won't  permit  any  such  folly  as  they  are  meditat 
ing,  and  I  do  not  believe  there  is  any  sacrifice,  not  involving 
evil,  at  which  she  would  hesitate.  She's  a  jewel,  Atwood, 
and  in  winning  her,  as  you  will,  you  will  obtain  a  girl  for 
whom  a  prince  might  well  sue.  She's  one  of  a  thousand, 
and  beneath  all  her  wonted  self-control  and  reserve  she  has 
as  true  and  passionate  a  heart  as  ever  beat  in  a  woman's 
breast. ' ' 

"  Good-night,"  said  Roger,  a  little  abruptly.  "  I  agree 
with  all  you  can  say  in  regard  to  Miss  Jocelyn' s  nobility, 
and  I  shall  not  fail  her,  nor  shall  I  make  bargains  or  condi 
tions  in  my  loyalty.  The  privilege  of  serving  such  a  woman 
is  enough.  I  will  see  you  again  soon,"  and  he  walked 
rapidly  down  the  street  on  which  his  uncle  resided. 


S THONG  TEMPTATION.  4" 

Roger  and  Mr.  Wentworth  had  become  very  good  friends, 
and  the  latter  had  been  of  much  service  to  the  young  fellow 
by  guiding  him  in  his  reading  and  study.  The  clergyman 
had  shown  his  usual  tact  in  dealing  with  Roger.  Never  once 
had  he  lectured  or  talked  religion  at  him,  but  he  preached  in 
terestingly,  and  out  of  the  pulpit  was  the  genial,  natural,  hearty 
man  that  wins  the  respect  and  good-will  of  all.  His  inter 
views  with  Roger  were  free  from  the  faintest  trace  of  religious 
affectation,  and  he  showed  that  friendly  appreciation  and  spirit 
of  comradeship  which  young  men  like.  Roger  felt  that  he  was 
not  dealing  with  an  ecclesiastic,  but  with  a  man  who  was  as 
honest,  earnest,  and  successful  in  his  way  as  he  ever  hoped 
to  be  in  his.  He  was  therefore  being  drawn  by  motives  that 
best  accorded  with  his  disposition  toward  the  Christian  faith 
— by  a  thorough  respect  for  it,  by  seeing  its  practical  value 
as  worked  out  in  the  useful  busy  life  of  one  who  made  his 
chapel  a  fruitful  oasis  in  what  would  otherwise  have  been  a 
moral  desert  In  his  genuine  humanity  and  downright  hon 
esty,  in  his  care  of  people's  bodies  as  well  as  souls,  and  tem 
poral  as  well  as  spiritual  interests,  the  minister  was  a  tower  of 
strength,  and  his  influence  for  good  over  the  ambitious 
youth,  now  fast  developing  the  character  which  would  make 
or  mar  him  for  life,  was  most  excellent.  While  Roger  spoke 
freely  to  him  of  his  general  hopes  and  plans,  and  gave  to 
him  more  confidence  than  to  any  one  else,  there  was  one 
thing  that,  so  far  as  words  were  concerned,  he  hid  from  all 
the  world — his  love  for  Mildred.  The  sagacious  clergyman, 
however,  at  last  guessed  the  truth,  but  until  to-night  never 
made  any  reference  to  it.  He  now  smiled  to  think  that  the 
sad-hearted  Jocelyns  might  eventually  find  in  Roger  a  cure 
for  most  of  their  troubles,  since  he  hoped  that  Mr.  Jocelyn, 
if  treated  scientifically,  might  be  restored  to  manhood. 

Mr.  Ezra  Atwood,  Roger's  uncle,  sat  in  his  small  parlor 
far  beyond  his  usual  hour  for  retiring,  and  occasionally  he 


4I8  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

paced  the  floor  so  impatiently  as  to  show  that  his  mind  was 
deeply  perturbed.  While  his  nephew  had  studied  books  he 
had  studied  his  nephew,  and  in  the  process  the  fossilization  of 
his  heart  had  been  arrested,  and  the  strong,  steady  youth  had 
suggested  hopes  of  something  like  a  filial  relation  to  the  child 
less  man.  At  first  he  had  growled  to  himself,  "  If  the  boy 
were  only  mine  I'd  make  a  man  of  him,"  and  then  gradually 
the  idea  of  adopting  and  making  a  man  of  him,  had  present 
ed  itself  and  slowly  gained  full  possession  of  his  mind. 
Roger  was  capable,  persevering,  and  tremendously  ambitious 
— qualities  that  were  after  the  old  man's  heart,  and,  after 
maintaining  his  shrewd  furtive  observation  for  months,  he  at 
last  muttered  to  himself,  "  I'll  do  it,  for  he's  got  the  Atwood 
grit  and  grip,  and  more  brains  than  any  of  us.  His  father  is 
shrewd  and  obstinate  enough,  but  he's  narrow,  and  hasn't 
breadth  of  mind  to  do  more  than  pinch  and  save  what  he 
can  scratch  out  of  that  stony  farm  of  his.  I'm  narrow,  too. 
I  can  turn  an  honest  penny  in  my  line  with  the  sharpest  in 
the  market,  and  I'm  content ;  but  this  young  fellow  is  a 
new  departure  in  the  family,  and  if  given  a  chance  and  kept 
from  all  nonsense  he  can  climb  to  the  top  notch.  There's 
no  telling  how  high  a  lawyer  can  get  in  this  country  if  he  has 
plenty  of  brains  and  a  ready  tongue. ' ' 

Thus  the  old  man's  dominant  trait,  ambition,  which  he 
had  satisfied  in  becoming  known  as  one  of  the  most  solid 
and  wealthy  men  of  his  calling,  found  in  his  nephew  a  new 
sphere  of  development.  In  return  for  the  great  favors  which 
he  proposed  to  confer,  however,  he  felt  that  Roger  should 
gratefully  accept  his  wishes  as  absolute  law.  With  the  ego 
tism  and  confidence  of  many  successful  yet  narrow  men,  he 
believed  himself  perfectly  capable  of  guiding  the  young 
fellow's  career  in  all  respects,  and  had  little  expectation  of 
any  fortunate  issue  unless  he  did  direct  in  all  essential  and 


STRONG  TEMPTATION.  413 

practical  matters.  Mr.  Atwood  worshipped  common-sense 
and  the  shrewd  individuality  of  character  which  separates 
a  man  from  his  fellows,  and  enables  him  to  wrap  himself  in 
his  own  interests  and  pursuits  without  babbling  to  others  or 
being  impeded  by  them.  Influenced  by  his  wife,  he  was 
kind  to  the  poor,  and  charitable  in  a  certain  methodical  way, 
but  boasted  to  her  that  in  his  limited  circle  he  had  no 
"  hangers-on,"  as  he  termed  them.  He  had  an  instinctive 
antipathy  to  a  class  that  he  called  ' '  ne'  er-do-weels,  "  have- 
beens,"  and  "  unlucky  devils,"  and  if  their  misfortunes  and 
lack  of  thrift  resulted  from  causes  like  those  destroying  Mr, 
Jocelyn  he  was  sternly  and  contemptuously  implacable  tow 
ard  them.  He  was  vexed  that  Roger  should  have  bothered 
himself  with  the  sick  man  he  had  discovered  on  shipboard 
the  day  before  Christmas.  "  It  was  no  affair  of  his,"  he  had 
grumbled  ;  but  as  the  young  fellow  had  been  steady  as  a 
clock  in  his  business  and  studies  after  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  re 
covered,  he  had  given  no  further  thought  to  these  friends, 
nor  had  it  occurred  to  him  that  they  were  more  than  passing 
acquaintances.  But  a  letter  from  Roger's  father,  who  had 
heard  of  Mr.  Jocelyn' s  condition  and  of  his  son's  intimacy 
with  the  family,  awakened  the  conservative  uncle's  suspi 
cions,  and  that  very  afternoon  the  well-meaning  but  garru 
lous  Mrs.  Wheaton  had  told  his  wife  all  about  what  she  re 
garded  as  brilliant  performances  on  the  part  of  Roger  at  the 
police  court.  Mrs.  Atwood  was  a  kind-hearted  woman,  but 
she  had  much  of  her  husband's  horror  of  people  who  were 
not  respectable  after  her  strict  ideal,  and  she  felt  that  she 
ought  to  warn  him  that  Roger's  friends  were  not  altogethel 
desirable.  Of  course  she  was  glad  that  Roger  had  been  able 
to  show  that  the  young  girl  was  innocent,  but  shop-girls  liv 
ing  in  low  tenements  with  a  drunken  father  were  not  fit  com 
panions  for  their  nephew  and  possible  heir.  Her  husband 
indorsed  her  views  with  the  whole  force  of  his  strong,  un- 


4T4  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

sympathetic,  and  ambitious  nature,  and  was  now  awaiting 
Roger  with  the  purpose  of  "putting  an  end  to  such  non 
sense  at  once. ' '  The  young  man  therefore  was  surprised  to 
find,  as  he  entered  the  hallway,  that  his  uncle  was  up  at  an 
hour  late  for  him. 

"  I  wish  to  see  you,"  was  the  prompt,  brief  greeting  from 
Mr.  Atwood,  who  was  uneasily  tramping  up  and  down  the 
small  stiff  parlor,  which  was  so  rarely  used  that  it  might 
almost  have  been  dispensed  with  as  a  part  of  the  residence. 
Roger  came  forward  with  some  anxiety,  for  his  uncle  lowered 
at  him  like  a  thunder-cloud. 

' '  Sit  there,  where  I  can  see  your  face, ' '  was  the  next  curt 
direction.  There  was  neither  guilt  nor  fear  in  the  frank 
countenance  that  was  turned  full  upon  him.  "I'm  a  man  of 
few  words,"  he  resumed  more  kindly,  for.  Roger's  expres 
sion  disarmed  him  somewhat.  "  Surely,"  he  thought, 
' '  when  the  boy  gets  a  hint  of  what  I  can  do  for  him,  he'  11 
not  be  the  fool  to  tangle  himself  up  with  people  like  the 
Jocelyns. ' ' 

' '  Where  have  you  been  to-night  ?' '  he  asked  bluntly. 
Roger  told  him.  "  Where  were  you  last  night  and  this 
morning  ?' '  Roger  briefly  narrated  the  whole  story,  con 
cluding,  "  It's  the  first  time  I've  been  late  to  business,  sir." 

The  old  man  listened  grimly,  without  interruption,  and  then 
said,  "  Of  course  I'm  glad  you  got  the  girl  off,  but  it's  bad 
management  to  get  mixed  up  in  such  scrapes.  Perhaps  a 
little  insight  into  court-room  scenes  will  do  you  no  harm 
since  you  are  to  be  a  lawyer.  Now  that  the  affair  is  over, 
however,  I  wish  you  to  drop  these  Jocelyns.  They  are  of 
no  advantage  to  you,  and  they  belong  to  a  class  that  is  ex 
ceedingly  disagreeable  to  me.  I  suppose  you  know  what 
kind  of  a  man  Mr.  Jocelyn  is  ?' ' 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  you  do  not  know  what  kind  of  a  woman 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  is.  She  is^~" 


STRONG  TEMPTATION,  41$ 

"  She  is  Jocelyn's  wife,  isn't  she  ?" 

"  Certainly;  but — " 

"  And  the  girl  is  his  daughter.  They  live  in  a  dowdy 
tenement,  and  are  as  poor  as  crows. ' ' 

' '  Misfortune  and  the  wrong  of  others  might  make  all  this 
true  of  us, ' '  began  the  youth  impetuously  ;  ' '  and  yet  if  old 
friends  should  turn  their  backs — ' ' 

"  You  are  not  an  old  friend,"  his  uncle  again  interrupted, 
in  his  hard,  business-like  tones.  ' '  They  are  merely  acci 
dental  acquaintances,  who  happened  to  board  at  your  father's 
house  last  summer.  They  haven' t  the  ghost  of  a  claim  upon 
you.  It  looks  far  more  as  if  you  were  in  love  with  the  girl, 
and  were  making  a  romantic  fool  of  yourself. ' ' 

Roger's  face  grew  very  white,  but  he  controlled  himself, 
and  asked,  "  Uncle,  have  I  ever  treated  you  with  dis 
respect  ?' ' 

"  Certainly  not ;  why  should  you  ?" 

' '  With  some  right  I  may  also  ask  why  you  treat  me  with 
such  disrespect  ?' ' 

The  old  man  opened  his  eyes,  and  was  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  this  unexpected  question,  and  yet  a  moment's  re 
flection  showed  him  that  he  had  given  cause  for  it  He 
also  misunderstood  his  nephew,  and  resumed,  with  a  short 
conciliatory  laugh,  "  I  guess  I'm  the  fool,  to  be  imagining 
all  this  nonsense.  Of  course  you  are  too  much  of  an  At- 
wood  to  entangle  yourself  with  such  people  and  spoil  your 
prospects  for  life.  Look  here,  Roger.  I'll  be  frank  with 
you,  and  then  we'll  understand  each  other.  You  know  I've 
neither  chick  nor  child,  and  I've  turned  a  good  big  penny 
in  business.  When  you  first  came  I  thought  you  were  a 
rattle-pated  country  boy  that  wanted  a  lark  in  the  city,  and  I 
took  you  more  to  keep  you  out  of  mischief  than  for  any 
other  cause.  Well,  I've  watched  you  closely,  and  I  was  mis 
taken.  You've  got  the  stuff  in  you  to  make  a  man,  and  I 


416  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

see  no  reason  why  you  should  not  be  at  the  top  of  the  heap 
before  you  reach  my  years,  and  I  mean  to  give  you  a  chance. 
You've  got  a  little  soft  place  in  your  head  and  heart,  or  you 
wouldn't  be  getting  yourself  mixed  up  in  other  people's 
troubles.  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  my  boy,  a  man  who  gets 
ahead  in  these  times  must  strike  right  out  for  himself,  and 
steer  clear  of  all  fouling  with  '  ne'er-do-weels,'  as  if  they  had 
a  pestilence.  Hook  on  to  the  lucky  ones,  the  strong  ones, 
and  they'll  help  you  along.  Now  if  you'll  take  this  course 
and  follow  my  advice  right  along,  I'  11  give  you  a  chance  with 
the  first.  You  shall  go  to  the  best  college  in  the  land,  next 
to  the  law-school,  and  then  have  money  enough  to  enable 
you  to  strike  high.  By  the  time  you  are  thirty  you  can  marry 
an  heiress.  But  no  more  Jocelyns  and  shop-girls  who  have 
been  at  station-houses,  if  you  please.  The  girl  may  have 
been  innocent  of  that  offence  ;  but,  plain  man  as  I  am,  I 
don't  like  this  style  of  people  at  all,  and  I  know  human 
nature  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  they'll  try  to  tie  them 
selves  on  to  you  if  they  can.  I've  thought  it  all  out  in  my 
slow  way,  and,  since  you've  got  it  in  you,  I'm  going  to  give 
you  a  chance  to  put  the  Atwood  name  where  I  can' t,  with  all 
my  money." 

Roger  was  deeply  moved,  for  he  had  no  idea  that  his  uncle 
was  cherishing  such  far-reaching  plans  in  his  behalf.  While 
he  had  little  sympathy  with  the  cold,  selfish  side  of  the  pro 
gramme,  his  strong  ambition  responded  powerfully  to  the 
prospect  held  out  to  him.  He  knew  that  the  hopes  inspired 
were  not  vain,  for  his  uncle  was  a  man  whose  deeds  always 
outstripped  his  words,  and  that  his  fortunes  were  practically 
assured  if  he  would  follow  the  worldly-wise  policy  to  which 
he  had  listened.  His  ambition  whispered,  ''  Mildred  Joce- 
lyn  does  not  love  you,  and  never  will.  Even  now,  after  you 
have  done  so  much  for  her,  and  her  gratitude  is  boundless, 
her  heart  shrinks  from  you.  She  may  not  be  able  to  help  it, 


STRONG  TEMPTATION-.  417 

but  it  is  true  nevertheless.  Why  should  you  throw  away 
such  prospects  for  the  sake  of  one  who  loves  another  man, 
and  who,  until  in  a  time  of  desperate  need,  treated  you  with 
undisguised  coldness  and  dislike  ?  Besides,  by  yielding  to 
your  uncle's  will  you  can  eventually  do  more  for  the  family 
than  if  thrown  on  your  own  resources. ' '  It  was  indeed  the 
great  temptation  of  his  life,  and  he  wavered. 

"  Uncle,"  he  said  irresolutely,  "  you  have  indeed  opened 
a  very  alluring  prospect,  and  I  am  grateful  that  you  think  so 
well  of  me,  and  that  you  are  willing  to  do  so  much.  Since 
you  have  been  so  frank  with  me,  I  will  be  equally  so  with 
you, ' '  and  he  told  him  all  about  his  relations  with  the  Joce- 
lyns,  and  tried  to  make  the  shrewd  old  merchant  understand 
that  they  were  not  common  people. 

"  They  are  the  most  dangerous  people  of  all,"  he  inter 
rupted  impatiently.  "  Having  once  been  up  in  the  world, 
they  think  they  are  still  as  good  as  anybody,  and  are  wild  to 
regain  their  old  position.  If  they  had  always  been  poor  and 
commonplace,  they  would  not  be  so  likely  to  presume. 
What  you  say  about  the  girl's  not  caring  for  you  is  sheer 
nonsense.  She'  d  marry  you  to-morrow  if  she  could.  The 
one  idea  of  such  people  is  to  get  out  of  the  slough  into 
which  they  have  fallen,  and  they'll  marry  out  of  it  the  first 
chance  they  get,  and  like  enough  they'  11  do  worse  if  they 
can' t  marry.  I  tell  you  they  are  the  most  dangerous  kind 
of  people,  and  Southern  at  that.  I've  learned  all  about 
them  ;  the  father  has  gone  to  the  devil  for  good  and  all,  and, 
with  your  feeling  and  weakness  toward  them,  you'll  never  be 
safe  a  moment  unless  you  drop  them  completely  and  finally. 
Come,  young  man,  let  this  affair  be  the  test  between  us. 
I've  worked  hard  for  nearly  a  life-time,  and  have  a  right  to 
impose  some  conditions  with  what  has  been  earned  by  forty 
years  of  toil,  early  and  late.  I  never  speculated  once. 
Every  dollar  I  had  to  spare  I  put  in  paying  real  estate  and 


41 8  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

governments,  and,  Roger,  I'm  worth  to-day  a  good  half 
a  million.  Ha,  ha,  ha  1  people  who  look  at  the  plain  old 
man  in  the  plain  little  house  don't  know  that  he  could  afford 
a  mansion  on  the  Avenue  better  than  most  of  them.  This  is 
between  ourselves,  but  I  want  you  to  act  with  your  eyes 
open.  If  you  are  such  a  soft-headed  fool  as  to  let  that  girl, 
who  you  admit  does  not  like  you  or  care  a  rap  for  you  per 
sonally,  stand  between  you  and  such  prospects,  then  I'm 
mistaken  in  you,  and  the  sooner  I  find  it  out  the  better. 
Come,  now,  I'll  be  good-natured  and  liberal  in  the  matter, 
for  young  men  will  be  a  little  addle-pated  and  romantic  be 
fore  they  cut  their  wisdom  teeth.  Through  that  English 
woman  who  works  for  your  aunt  occasionally  you  can  see 
to  it  that  these  people  don' t  suffer,  but  beyond  that  you  must 
drop  them  once  for  all.  What  is  more,  your  father  and 
mother  take  the  same  view  that  I  do,  and  your  filial  duty  to 
them  requires  what  I  ask.  While  we  naturally  refuse  to  be 
mixed  up  with  such  people,  we  are  seeking  chiefly  to  pro 
mote  your  welfare  ;  for  the  worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  a 
young  man  starting  in  life  is  to  have  a  helpless  lot  of  people 
hanging  on  to  him.  So,  come,  give  me  your  promise — the 
promise  of  an  Atwood — and  it  will  be  all  right. ' ' 

Roger  was  not  a  self-sacrificing  saint  by  any  means. 
Moreover,  he  had  inherited  the  Atwood  characteristics  suffi 
ciently  to  feel  all  the  worldly  force  of  his  uncle's  reasoning, 
and  to  be  tempted  tremendously  by  his  offers.  They 
promised  to  realize  his  wildest  dreams,  and  to  make  the 
path  to  fame  and  wealth  a  broad,  easy  track  instead  of  a  long, 
steep,  thorny  path,  as  he  had  expected.  He  was  virtually  on 
the  mountain-top,  and  had  been  shown  "  all  the  kingdoms  of 
the  world  and  the  glory  of  them. ' ' 

But  against  this  brilliant  background  he  saw  the  thin,  pale 
face  of  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  as  she  looked  up  to  him  with  loving 
trust  and  gratitude,  and  the  motherly  kiss  that  she  had  im- 


STRONG  TEMPTATION.  4*9 

printed  on  his  cheek  was  a  seal  to  her  absolute  faith.  He 
felt  the  pressure  of  Belle's  arm  about  his  neck,  and  remem 
bered  his  promise  to  give  her  a  brother's  regard  and  protec 
tion,  and  justly  he  feared  that  if  deserted  now  the  impulsive, 
tempted  girl  would  soon  meet  shipwreck.  She  would  lose 
faith  in  God  and  man.  But  that  which  touched  him  most 
nearly  were  his  words  to  Mildred — words  spoken  even  when 
she  showed  him  most  plainly  that  her  heart  was  not  his,  and 
probably  never  could  be — "  I  am  your  friend  ;  never  doubt 
it. ' '  How  false  he  would  seem  to  them  ;  how  false  and 
selfish  to  his  friend,  the  great-hearted  clergyman,  who  was 
like  Christ  himself  in  his  devoted  labors  ;  how  false  and 
base  he  would  ever  feel  himself  to  be  in  his  own  soul  ! 

For  a  time  there  was  a  terrible  conflict  in  his  breast  as  he 
paced  the  floor  in  long  strides,  with  hands  clenched  and 
brow  heavily  contracted.  His  uncle  watched  him  curiously 
and  with  displeased  surprise,  for  that  he  could  hesitate  at  all 
seemed  to  the  worldly  man  an  evidence  of  fatal  weakness. 

Roger  fought  it  out  like  a  genuine  Atwood,  and  was 
nearer  akin  to  his  uncle  than  the  old  merchant  would  ever 
suspect.  His  heart  craved  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  un 
speakably,  but  he  now  realized  that  he  must  barter  for  them 
his  honor,  his  manhood,  and  love.  Thus  far  he  had  a  right 
to  love  Mildred,  and  it  was  not  her  fault  she  could  not  return 
it.  But,  poor  and  shamed  as  she  was,  he  knew  that  she 
would  despise  him  if  he  yielded  now,  even  though  he  rose  to 
be  the  foremost  man  of  the  nation.  Not  with  any  chivalric, 
uncalculating  impulse  did  he  reach  his  conclusion,  but  by 
the  slow,  deliberate  reasoning  of  a  cool-headed,  sturdy  race 
that  would  hold  to  a  course  with  life-long  tenacity,  having 
once  chosen  it. 

Turning  to  his  uncle,  he  asked  quietly,  ' '  What  did  you 
mean  by  '  the  promise  of  an  Atwood '  ?" 

You  ought  to  know.     Our  family,  for  generations,  have 


420  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

lived  up  among  the  granite  hills  of  Forestville,  and,  although 
poor,  our  promises,  whether  spoken  or  written,  are  like 
them. ' ' 

"I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that — I'm  glad  to  be  reminded 
of  it,"  his  nephew  replied.  "Well,  my  promise  has  already 
been  given.  I  have  promised  that  poor  broken-hearted  woman, 
Mrs.  Jocelyn,  that  I'd  try  to  help  her  through  her  terrible  mis 
fortunes.  I've  promised  her  daughter  Belle  that  I'd  give  her 
a  brother's  care  and  affection.  I've  promised  the  girl  I  love 
that  I  would  at  least  be  her  friend,  since  I  cannot  be  more. 
I'll  prove  myself  a  true  Atwood,  worthy  to  sustain  the  family 
name  and  honor  by  keeping  my  promises,  and  if  I  break 
them,  you  yourself,  deep  in  your  heart,  would  despise  me.'' 

For  a  moment  the  old  merchant  was  nonplussed,  so 
adroitly  and  unexpectedly  had  Roger  turned  his  words  against 
him.  Then,  like  most  men  suddenly  put  in  a  false  position, 
he  grew  angry,  and  blurted  out,  "  Nonsense  !  It  doesn't  ap 
ply  at  all.  These  artful  women  have  come  it  over  you — have 
entrapped  you. ' '  The  young  man  here  made  a  strong  ges 
ture  of  protest.  ' '  Oh,  don' t  try  to  deceive  me, ' '  his  uncle 
proceeded,  more  loudly  and  passionately  ;  "I  know  the 
world.  If  I'd  blindly  made  promises  to  adventurers  who 
would  compass  my  ruin,  ought  I  to  keep  them  ?  If  I  find 
I've  indorsed  a  forged  check,  ought  I  not  to  stop  its  pay 
ment  ?  In  the  name  of  your  parents  and  as  your  uncle,  I 
protest  against  this  folly,  for  I  see  well  enough  where  it  will 
end.  Moreover,  I  tell  you  plainly  that  you  must  choose  be 
tween  me  and  my  offers,  and  that  old  sot  of  a  Jocelyn  and 
his  scheming  wife  and  daughters.  If  you  can  be  carried 
away  by  such  absurdity,  you  are  weaker  than  water,  and  the 
sooner  you  learn  by  bitter  experience  the  better,  for  you  cer 
tainly  belong  to  that  class  which  only  hard  experience  can 
teach.  But  I'd  like  to  see  those  brazen-faced  creatures  and 
give  them  a  piece  of — " 


STRONG  TEMPTATION.  4" 

"  Stop  !"  thundered  Roger  ;  "  beware  how  you  say  an 
other  word  against  those  whom  sorrow  should  render  sacred. 
You  know  less  about  them  than  about  heaven.  Do  you 
forget  that  I  am  of  age  ?  You  made  me  an  offer,  and  1 
thanked  you  for  it  honestly  and  gratefully.  What's  more,  I 
was  base  enough  to  be  tempted  by  it.  Oh,  yes" — with  a 
bitter  laugh — ' '  I  was  an  Atwood  enough  for  that.  If  you 
had  not  coupled  it  with  the  condition  that  I  should,  like  a 
coward,  desert  helpless  and  unfortunate  women  to  whom  my 
word  is  given,  I  would  have  fulfilled  your  best  hopes  and 
ambitions,  and  have  made  your  old  age  glad  with  my  grate 
ful  love  and  service.  In  your  cold-hearted  worldliness  you 
have  overreached  yourself,  and  you  wrong  yourself  more 
than  me,  even  though  I  perish  in  the  streets.  But  I  won't 
starve.  Mark  my  words  ;  I'll  place  the  Atwood  name  where 
you  can't,  with  all  your  money,  and  I  shall  not  make  broken 
faith  with  those  who  trust  me,  the  foundation  of  my  for 
tunes." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  his  uncle,  who  had  quieted  down 
into  an  anger  of  white  heat ;  "  since  you  prefer  those  dis 
reputable  strangers  to  your  family,  go  to  them.  I  wash  my 
hands  of  you,  and  shall  write  to  your  father  to  this  effect  to 
night.  I'm  a  prompt  man  and  don't  dilly-dally." 

"  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  her  daughters  are  no  more  disreputable 
than  you  are,  sir,  and  calling  me  '  soft-headed  fool '  doesn't 
make  me  one.  I  know  the  duty  I  owe  my  parents,  and 
shall  perform  it.  I  shall  write  to  them  also.  They  shall 
hear  both  sides,  and  were  your  fortune  multiplied  a  thou 
sand  times,  I  won't  sell  my  manhood  for  it.  Am  I  to  have 
shelter  another  night,  or  do  you  wash  your  hands  of  me  here 
and  now  ?' ' 

' '  Oh,  stay  by  all  means,  or  you  may  find  yourself  in  the 
same  cell  in  which  your  paragon  spent  last  night,"  replied 
his  uncle,  whose  rage  now  passed  all  bounds. 


422  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

4 'Those  words  are  brutal,"  said  Roger  sternly,  "and  if 
you  are  not  ashamed  of  them  after  thinking  them  over,  you 
are  not  the  man  I  took  you  to  be,"  and  he  stalked  out  of  the 
room  and  out  of  the  house,  slamming  the  door  after  him. 

The  old  merchant  sank  into  a  chair,  trembling  with  both 
anger  and  chagrin,  for  he  felt  that  he  had  been  worsted  in 
the  encounter.  He  did  regret  the  words  as  soon  as  spoken, 
and  a  certain  rude  sense  of  justice  made  him  feel,  even  in  his 
excitement,  that  his  nephew,  although  an  egregious  fool  of 
course,  had  been  true  to  his  sense  of  right  and  honor.  He 
was  assuredly  the  victim  of  a  designing  lot  of  women,  but 
believing  them  to  be  true,  his  course  had  been  manly,  and 
the  thought  would  come,  "  Since  he  was  so  faithful  to  them, 
he  would  have  been  equally  so  to  me,  and  he  might  have 
found  the  huzzies  out  in  time  to  prevent  trouble."  And 
now  he  had  said  words  which  in  effect  turned  his  brother's 
son  out  of  doors  at  midnight.  With  something  like  a  groan 
and  an  oath  he  resolved  not  to  write  that  night,  and  to  see 
how  he  felt  in  the  morning.  His  nephew  on  provocation 
had  proved  as  great  a  Tartar  as  he  knew  himself  to  be,  and 
he  now  remembered  that  the  former  had  some  excuse  in  his 
hot  young  blood,  and  that  he  had  a  right  to  choose  against 
his  offer,  if  fool  enough  to  do  it,  without  being  reviled  and 
insulted. 

After  a  wretched  night  he  found  on  the  breakfast- table  a 
brief,  cold  note  from  Roger,  saying  that  he  would  inform 
him  in  a  day  or  two  where  to  send  his  effects  and  such  part 
of  his  salary  as  remained  unpaid.  The  old  man  frowned, 
and  the  Atwood  pride  and  obstinacy  took  possession  of  him 
like  evil  spirits.  In  grim  reticence  he  resumed  his  old  rou 
tine  and  life,  and  again  gave  himself  up  to  the  mechanical 
accumulation  and  saving  of  money. 


NO  "DARK  CORNERS."  4«3 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 
NO   "DARK  CORNERS." 

FROM  his  uncle's  house  Roger  went  to  a  small  hotel  and 
obtained  a  room  in  which  to  spend  a  sleepless  night 
After  the  excitement  of  anger  passed,  he  recognized  the  diffi 
culties  of  his  position.  He  was  worse  than  friendless  in  the 
great  city,  for  when  he  sought  employment  and  gave  an  ac 
count  of  his  antecedents,  people  would  ask  suspiciously  why 
he  left  his  uncle.  The  reasons  were  of  too  delicate  a  nature 
to  be  babbled  about  in  business  offices. 

At  first  he  was  much  depressed,  and  complained  that 
' '  luck  was  dead  against  him. ' '  Moreover  he  felt  that  he 
had  responded  too  harshly  to  his  uncle,  who,  after  all,  was 
only  trying  to  aid  him  in  his  cold-blooded  way.  Neverthe 
less  he,  too,  had  his  share  of  the  Atwood  pride  and  obstinacy, 
and  he  resolved  that  the  man  who  had  called  him  a  "  soft 
headed  fool "  for  sacrificing  himself  to  his  sense  of  honor 
and  duty  must  apologize  before  there  could  be  any  recon 
ciliation.  His  good  sense  led  him  to  make  one  wise  resolu 
tion,  and  early  in  the  morning  he  carried  it  out  by  making 
a  clean  breast  of  it  to  Mr.  Wentworth.  The  good  man 
listened  with  deep  interest,  and  heartened  the  young  fellow 
wonderfully  by  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder  and  saying, 
"  You  are  made  of  the  right  stuff,  Atwood,  and  although  the 
material  is  yet  a  little  raw  and  crude,  experience  and  Chris 
tian  principle  will  temper  it  in  time  into  the  finest  metal." 

"  Don't   ascribe   Christian    principle    to   me,"    growled 
Roger,  "  for  I'm  tempted  to  swear  like  a  pirate." 


424  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  Very  likely,  and  not  without  some  reason.  I  occasion 
ally  feel  a  little  that  way  myself,  but  I  don't  do  it ;  neither 
have  you. ' ' 

Roger  stared.  ' '  You'  re  not  a  bit  like  a  minister, ' '  he 
burst  out 

"  Sorry  to  hear  it." 

"  That  isn't  what  I  mean.  You  are  a  man.  Our  dom 
inie  up  at  Forestville  was  only  a  minister." 

"  I  have  my  share  of  human  nature,  Roger,  and  am  glad 
of  it,  for  I  know  from  experience  just  how  you  young  fellows 
feel.  But  it  involves  many  a  big  fight.  Christian  principle 
doesn't  mean  a  cotton-and-wool  nature,  or  a  milk-and-water 
experience,  to  put  it  in  a  homely  way.  It's  Christian  prin 
ciple  that  makes  Mildred  Jocelyn,  as  you  say,  one  of  the 
bravest  and  best  girls  in  the  world.  She's  worth  more  than 
all  your  uncle's  money,  and  you  needn't  be  discouraged, 
for  you'll  win  her  yet  A  young  fellow  with  your  pluck  can 
make  his  way  unaided,  and  thousands  have  done  so  without 
your  motives  or  your  ability.  I'll  stand  by  you,  for  you  are 
the  kind  of  man  that  I  believe  in.  To  make  your  course 
completely  blameless,  you  must  write  a  long  filial  letter  to 
your  mother,  explaining  everything  ;  and  if  you'll  take  my 
advice  you  will  send  something  like  this  to  your  uncle;" 
and  sitting  down  he  scratched  off  the  following  words  : 

"  On  calmer  reflection  I  perceive  that  your  intentions 
toward  me  were  kindly  and  friendly.  I  should  have  re 
membered  this,  and  the  respect  due  to  your  years,  and  not 
have  spoken  so  harshly.  For  all  that  it  was  not  right  for  me 
to  say,  I  apologize.  At  the  same  time  it  is  my  undoubted 
right  and  unwavering  purpose  to  be  guided  by  my  own  con 
science.  Our  views  of  life  and  duty  vary  so  widely  that  it 
will  be  best  for  me  to  struggle  on  alone,  as  I  can.  This, 
however,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  quarrel,  or  forget  the 
ties  of  blood  which  unite  us,  or  our  characters  as  gentlemen," 


NO  "DARJT  CORNERS."  425 

"  Such  a  note  will  put  you  right  with  your  own  conscience 
and  your  people  at  home, ' '  resumed  Mr.  Wentworth,  ' '  and 
there's  nothing  like  starting  right." 

Roger  complied  at  once,  for  the  clergyman's  "  human 
nature' '  had  gained  his  unlimited  confidence. 

"  Now  I'm  going  out,"  said  his  friend.  "  You  stay  and 
make  my  study  your  own.  There  is  paper,  etc.  I  think  I  know 
of  a  room  that  you  can  obtain  for  a  small  sum  from  a  nice, 
quiet  family,  and  perhaps  it  will  just  suit  you.  I'll  see  ;  but 
don't  take  it  if  you  don't  like  it.  You'll  stay  and  lunch  with 
us,  and  we'll  drink  to  your  success  in  generous  cups  of  coffee 
that  only  my  wife  knows  how  to  make, ' '  and  he  left  Roger 
cheered,  hopeful,  and  resolute.  What  was  better  still,  the 
young  man  was  starting  right,  as  was  well  proved  by  the 
long,  affectionate,  yet  firm  and  manly  letter  written  to  his 
mother. 

After  a  genial  lunch,  at  which  he  was  treated  with  a  respect 
and  kindness  which  did  him  a  world  of  good,  he  went  with 
Mr.  Wentworth  to  see  the  room,  and  was  well  pleased  with 
it,  and  he  added  his  future  address  to  the  note  to  his  uncle. 
He  then  said, 

' '  I  keep  my  promise  about  Mr.  Jocelyn,  and  the  sooner 
that  man  is  put  under  treatment  the  better. ' ' 

"  Why,  Roger  !"  exclaimed  his  friend,  "  you  can't  do 
anything  now." 

"  I  can  do  just  what  I  promised.  I  have  a  hundred  dol 
lars  in  the  bank,  and  there  is  about  twenty-five  still  due  me. 
With  the  latter  sum  I  can  get  along  until  I  can  find  em 
ployment. " 

"  Hold  on,  Roger  ;  it  seems  to  me  that  your  generosity 
is  getting  the  better  of  you  now.  Circumstances  have  greatly 
changed  since  you  made  your  promise. ' ' 

"  I've  not  changed,  and  my  promises  don't  change  with 
circumstances.  It  may  be  some  time  before  you  can  raise 


426  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

the  money,  even  if  you  can  get  it  at  all  in  these  hard  times, 
and  it's  something  that  ought  to  be  done  at  once." 

1 '  Give  me  your  hand  again,  old  fellow.  The  world  would 
say  we  were  a  pair  of  fools,  but  we'  11  wait  and  see  who' s 
right.  Come  to  me  at  nine  to-morrow  morning." 

Mr.  Wentworth  had  several  things  on  hand  that  he  meant 
to  do,  but  he  dropped  everything  and  started  for  the  offices 
of  some  lawyers  whom  he  knew,  determined  to  find  a  foot 
hold  at  once  for  his  plucky  protege.  Roger  went  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Jocelyn,  feeling  that  he  would  like  to  get  the  matter  re 
lating  to  her  husband  settled,  so  that  he  might  give  all  his 
thought  and  energy  to  the  problem  of  making  his  way  unaided. 
In  response  to  his  knock  a  light  step  crossed  the  floor,  and 
the  door  was  opened  a  little,  revealing  Mildred's  face,  then 
it  was  thrown  open  hospitably.  "Oh,  Mr.  Atwood,"  she 
exclaimed,  ' '  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  Forgive  me  that  I 
opened  the  door  so  suspiciously,  but  you  have  never  lived  in 
a  tenement,  and  do  not  know  what  awful  neighbors  are  often 
prowling  around.  Besides,  I  was  alone,  and  that  made  me 
more  timid.  I  am  so  troubled  about  something,  and  per 
haps  you  can  help  me,  for  you  seem  to  be  able  to  help  every 
one,"  Mildred  continued  hastily,  for  she  dreaded  an  em 
barrassing  silence  between  them  unspeakably.  "  I've  been 
to  see  my  employers  in  the  hope  they  would  forgive  that  poor 
girl  who  put  the  lace  in  my  cloak,  and  they  won't.  They 
were  polite  and  kind  to  me,  and  offered  me  better  wages  if  I 
would  come  back,  but  were  relentless  toward  the  girl,  saying 
they  '  meant  to  break  up  that  kind  of  thing  once  for  all. ' 
Don't  you  think  something  might  be  done  T' 

"  If  you  failed  there  would  be  no  use  of  my  trying,"  said 
Roger,  smiling.  ' '  I  think  it  was  wonderfully  good  of  you 
to  go  on  such  an  errand. ' ' 

"  I've  had  some  lessons  in  goodness  lately,"  she  replied, 
With  a  little  friendly  nod.  "  As  I  talked  with  those  stern 


NO  "DARK  CORNERS."  427 

men,  I  realized  more  than  ever  what  an  escape  I've  had,  and 
I've  thanked  you  in  my  heart  a  thousand  times." 

The  young  fellow  looked  as  if  he  had  been  repaid  a  thou 
sand  times,  and  wondered  that  he  could  have  been  so 
tempted  by  his  uncle's  terms,  for  it  now  seemed  impossible 
that  he  could  ever  do  aught  else  than  serve  the  sweet,  sad  girl 
who  looked  into  his  eyes  with  the  trust  and  friendliness  which 
he  had  sought  for  so  long  in  vain.  His  face  became  so  ex 
pressive  of  his  feelings  that  she  hurried  on  to  speak  of  another 
matter  weighing  on  her  mind. 

"  Mr.  Atwood,"  she  said  hesitatingly,  "  I  have  another 
trouble.  You  looked  so  vindictively  at  that  Mr.  Bissel 
in  the  court-room  that  I  have  feared  you  might  do  some 
thing  that  you  would  afterward  regret.  I  know  how 
one  with  your  honorable  spirit  would  feel  toward  such  a 
wretch,  but,  believe  me,  he  is  beneath  your  notice.  I  should 
feel  so  badly  if  you  got  into  any  trouble  on  my  account 
Indeed  it  seems  that  I  couldn't  stand  it  at  all,"  and  she  said 
it  with  so  much  feeling  that  he  was  honestly  delighted.  His 
spirits  were  rising  fast,  for  this  frank,  strong  interest  in  his 
welfare,  in  contrast  with  her  old  constraint  and  coldness, 
was  sweet  to  him  beyond  all  words. 

With  a  mischievous  and  rather  wicked  look  in  his  dark 
eyes,  he  said,  "  You  must  leave  that  fellow  to  me.  I'm 
not  a  saint  as  you  are." 

Mildred  proved  that  she  was  not  altogether  a  saint  by  in 
wardly  relishing  his  spirit,  for  she  never  could  overcome  some 
of  the  traits  of  her  Southern  blood  ;  but  she  said,  honestly 
and  anxiously,  ' '  I  should  feel  very  badly  if  you  got  into  any 
trouble." 

"  That  thought  will  make  me  prudent,"  he  replied  grate 
fully.  "  You  would  never  feel  badly  again  about  anything, 
if  I  had  my  way." 

' '  I  believe  you,  Mr.  Atwood,  and  I  can' t  see  why  I  did 


428  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

not  understand  you  better  before,"  said  Mildred,  the  words 
slipping  out  almost  before  she  knew  it." 

"  I  don't  think  you  understand  me  yet,"  he  answered, 
very  gently. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  he  saw  her  fingers  trembling  with 
nervous  apprehension  as  she  tried  to  go  on  with  her  sewing  ; 
he  also  saw  that  she  was  growing  very  pale.  Indeed  she  had 
almost  the  sick,  faint  look  of  one  who  is  about  to  submit  to 
some  painful  operation. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,  Miss  Mildred,"  he  remarked,  after 
watching  her  keenly  for  a  moment  or  two.  She  looked  up 
and  saw  him  smiling  broadly  at  her.  In  answer  to  her  per 
plexed  look  he  continued  quietly,  "  I  can  tell  you  what  has 
been  the  matter  between  us,  and  what  is  the  matter  now — 
you  are  afraid  of  me. ' ' 

"  Mr.  Aiwood — "  faltered  Mildred,  and  then  words  failed 
her,  and  her  pale  face  crimsoned. 

' '  Don' t  you  think  it  would  be  best  for  us  to  understand 
each  other,  now  that  we  are  to  be  friends  ?' '  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  gasped  the  young  girl  faintly,  fearing  every 
moment  that  he  would  lose  his  self-control  and  pour  out  a 
vehement  declaration  of  his  love.  She  was  prepared  to  say, 
"Roger  Atwood,  lam  ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  within 
my  power  that  you  can  ask,"  but  at  the  same  time  felt  that 
she  could  endure  slow  torture  by  fire  better  than  passionate 
words  of  love,  which  would  simply  bruise  the  heart  that  could 
make  no  response.  If  he  would  only  ask  quietly,  "Mil 
dred,  will  you  be  my  wife  when  the  right  time  comes?  I'll 
be  content  with  such  love  as  you  can  give;"  she  would 
have  replied  with  the  calmness  of  an  unalterable  purpose, 
' '  Yes,  Roger,  and  I'  11  do  my  best, ' '  believing  that  years  of 
effort  might  be  crowned  with  success.  But  now,  to  have 
him  plead  passionately  for  what  she  could  no  more  bestow 
than  if  she  were  dead,  gave  her  an  indescribable  sense  of 


NO  "DARK  CORNERS."  429 

fear,  pain,  and  repugnance  ;  and  she  cowered  and  shrank 
over  the  sewing  which  she  could  scarcely  hold,  so  great  was 
her  nervous  apprehension. 

Instead  of  the  vehement  declaration  there  came  a  low, 
mellow  laugh,  and  she  lifted  her  eyes  and  stared  at  him,  her 
work  dropping  from  her  hands. 

Roger  understood  the  situation  so  well,  and  was  so 
thoroughly  the  master  of  it  in  his  generous  self-control  and 
kindly  intentions,  that  he  should  scarcely  be  blamed  if  he  got 
out  of  it  such  bitter-sweet  enjoyment  as  he  could,  and  he 
said,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  "  Miss  Millie,  I  wasn't 
going  to  strike  you. ' ' 

"  I  don't  understand  you  at  all,"  cried  Mildred,  with  a 
pathetically  perplexed  expression  and  starting  tears,  for  the 
nervous  strain  was  becoming  a  little  too  prolonged. 

Roger  became  grave  at  once,  and  with  a  quiet,  gentle 
manner  he  came  to  her  side  and  took  her  hand.  ' '  Will  you 
be  as  honest  with  me  as  I  shall  be  with  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I'll  try  to  be." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  soon  solve  for  you  my  poor  little  riddle. 
Miss  Mildred,  you  know  that  I  have  loved  you  ever  since 
you  waked  up  an  awkward,  lazy,  country  fellow  into  the  wish 
to  be  a  man." 

His  words  were  plain  enough  now,  surely,  but  she  was  no 
longer  frightened,  for  he  spoke  in  such  a  kindly  natural  voice 
that  she  looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  with  a  delicate  bloom 
in  her  face,  and  replied, 

"  I  didn't  wish  to  mislead  you,  Mr.  Atwood,  and  I 
wouldn't  trifle  with  you." 

' '  You  have  been  truth  and  honesty  itself. ' ' 

"No,  I've  not,"  she  answered  impetuously  ;  "I  cher 
ished  an  unreasoning  prejudice  against  you,  and — and — I 
disliked  you,  though  why,  I  can' t  see  now,  and  nobly  you 
have  triumphed  over  both  prejudice  and  dislike." 


43°  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

' '  It  will  ever  be  the  proudest  triumph  of  my  life  ;  but, 
Miss  Mildred,  you  do  not  love  me  in  the  least,  and  I  fear 
you  never  will." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  so  very  sorry,"  she  faltered,  with  crimson 
face  and  downcast  eyes. 

' '  I  am,  too  ;  but  that  which  I  want  to  say  to  you  is,  that 
you  are  not  to  blame,  and  I  don' t  blame  you.  I  could  not 
love  a  girl  simply  because  she  wanted  me  to,  were  such  a 
thing  possible,  and  why  should  I  demand  of  you  what  I 
couldn't  do  myself?  All  I  asked  in  the  first  place — don't 
you  remember  it  in  the  old  front  walk  at  home  ? — was  friend 
ship.  Let  us  go  back  to  that.  Let  me  become  your  sim 
ple,  honest  friend,  and  help  you  in  every  way  within  my 
power.  Don't  let  me  frighten  you  any  more  with  the  dread 
of  high  tragedy.  Now  you've  had  all  the  declaration  you 
ever  need  fear.  I  won't  break  loose  or  explode  under  any 
provocation.  I  can't  help  my  love,  and  you  must  not  pun 
ish  me  for  it,  nor  make  yourself  miserable  about  it,  as  if  it 
were  a  powder  magazine  which  a  kind  word  or  look  might 
touch  off.  I  want  to  put  your  heart  to  rest,  for  you  have 
enough  to  bear  now,  Heaven  knows  ;  I  want  you  to  feel  safe 
with  me — as  free  from  fear  and  annoyance  as  Belle  is.  I 
won't  presume  or  be  sentimental. 

"  Oh,  my  perverse,  perverse  heart  !"  wailed  Mildred.  "  I 
could  tear  it  out  of  my  breast  and  throw  it  away  in  disgust 
I  want  to  love — it  would  be  a  poor  return  for  all  that  you  are 
and  have  done  for  me — but  it  is  of  no  use.  I  will  not  de 
ceive  one  so  true  as  you  are,  by  even  a  trace  of  falseness. 
You  deserve  the  love  of  the  best  woman  in  the  world,  and 
some  day  you'll  find  her — " 

"  I  have  found  her,"  he  put  in  quietly. 

"  No,  no,  no  !"  she  cried  passionately  ;  "  but  I  am  as 
nature  made  me,  and  I  can't  seem  to  help  myself.  How 
strange  it  seems  that  I  can  say  from  the  depths  of  my  soul  I 


NO  "DARK  CORNERS."  43 1 

could  die  for  you,  and  yet  that  I  can't  do  just  the  one  thing 
you  deserve  a  thousand  times  !  But,  Roger,  I  will  be  the 
most  devoted  sister  that  ever  a  man  had." 

"  No,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  that  won't  answer  at  all.  That 
wouldn't  be  honest,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  Belle  is  my 
sister,  but  you  can  never  be.  I  know  you  don' t  love  me 
now,  andt  as  I've  said,  perhaps  you  never  can,  but  I'm  too 
persistent  in  my  nature  to  give  up  the  hope.  Time  may  bring 
changes,  and  I've  got  years  of  up-hill  work  before  I  can 
think  of  marrying.  You  are  in  a  self-sacrificing  mood  now. 
I  saw  it  in  your  eyes  and  manner  last  night — I  see  it  now. 
Mildred,  I  could  take  a  very  great  advantage  of  you  if  I 
chose. ' ' 

1 '  Indeed  you  could.  You  don' t  know  how  generous  you 
are.  You  have  conquered  me,  overwhelmed  me  by  your 
kindness,  and  I  couldn't  say  No  to  anything  in  your  nature 
to  ask." 

For  a  moment  he  looked  sorely  tempted,  and  then  he  said 
brusquely,  "  I'll  put  a  spoke  in  that  wheel.  I'd  give  all  the 
world  for  this  little  hand,  but  I  won't  take  it  until  your  heart 
goes  with  it.  So  there  !" 

The  young  girl  sighed  deeply.  "  You  are  right,"  she 
murmured,  "  when  you  give  so  much  I  can  give  so  little." 

' '  That  is  not  what  I  was  thinking  of.  As  a  woman  you 
have  sacred  rights,  and  I  should  despise  myself  if  I  tried  to 
buy  you  with  kindness,  or  take  advantage  of  your  gratitude. 
I'll  admit,  too,  since  we  are  to  have  no  dark  corners  in  this 
talk,  that  I  would  rather  be  loved  as  I  know  you  can  love. 
I'd  rather  have  an  honest  friendship  than  a  forced  affection, 
even  though  the  force  was  only  in  the  girl's  will  and  wishes. 
I  was  reading  Maud  Miiller  the  other  night,  and  no  woman 
shall  ever  say  of  her  life's  happiness,  that  but  for  me  '  it 
might  have  been.'  ' 

"  I  don't  think  any  woman  could  ever  say  that  of  you." 


43 2  WITHOUT  A  HOME, 

"Mildred,  you  showed  me  your  heart  last  night,  and  it 
has  a  will  stronger  than  your  will,  and  it  shall  have  its  way. ' ' 

The  girl  again  sighed.  "  Roger,"  she  said,  "  one  reason 
why  I  so  shrank  from  you  in  the  past  was  that  you  read  my 
thoughts.  You  have  more  than  a  woman's  intuition." 

"  No,"  he  said,  laughing  a  little  grimly,  "I'm  not  a  bit 
feminine  in  my  nature.  My  explanation  may  seem  absurd 
to  you,  but  it's  true,  I  think.  I  am  exceedingly  fond  of 
hunting,  and  I  so  trained  my  eyes  that  if  a  leaf  stirred  or  a 
bird  moved  a  wing  I  saw  it.  When  you  waked  me  up,  and 
I  determined  to  seek  my  fortunes  out  in  the  world,  I  carried 
with  me  the  same  quickness  of  eye.  I  do  not  let  much  that 
is  to  be  seen  escape  me,  and  on  a  face  like  yours  thoughts 
usually  leave  some  trace." 

'  You  didn'  t  learn  to  be  a  gentleman,  in  the  best  sense  of 
the  word,  in  the  woods, ' '  she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  No,  you  and  your  mother  taught  me  that,  and  I  may 
add,  your  father,  for  when  I  first  saw  him  he  had  the  perfec 
tion  of  manners. ' '  He  might  also  have  referred  to  Vinton 
Arnold,  whom  he  had  studied  so  carefully,  but  he  could  not 
bring  himself  to  speak  of  one  whom  in  his  heart  he  knew  to 
be  the  chief  barrier  between  them,  for  he  was  well  aware  that 
it  was  Mildred's  involuntary  fidelity  to  her  first  love  that  made 
his  suit  so  dubious.  At  his  reference  to  her  father  Mildred's 
eyes  had  filled  at  once,  and  he  continued  gently,  "  We  un 
derstand  each  other  now,  do  we  not  ?  You  won' t  be  afraid 
of  me  any  more,  and  will  let  me  help  you  all  to  brighter 
days  ?' ' 

She  put  both  of  her  hands  in  his,  and  said  earnestly,  ' '  No, 
I  will  never  be  afraid  of  you  again,  but  I  only  half  understand 
you  yet,  for  I  did  not  know  that  there  was  a  man  in  the 
world  so  noble,  so  generous,  so  honest.  You  have  banished 
every  trace  of  constraint,  and  I'  11  do  everything  you  say. ' ' 

There  was  a  look  of  almost  boyish  pleasure  on  his  face  aa 


NO  "DARK  CORNERS:1  433 

sht  spoke,  and  in  imitation  of  the  heroes  of  the  interminable 
old-time  romances  that  once  had  formed  the  larger  part  of 
his  reading,  he  was  about  to  raise  her  hand  to  his  lips  when 
she  snatched  it  away,  and  as  if  mastered  by  an  impulse  not 
to  be  controlled,  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  kissed 
him,  then  burst  into  tears  with  her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

He  trembled  a  moment,  and  said,  in  low  tones,  "  God 
bless  you,  Millie."  Then  he  gently  placed  her  in  her  chair. 
;<  You  mustn't  do  that  again,"  he  said  gravely.  "  With  you 
it  was  but  a  grateful  sisterly  impulse,  but  if  I  were  Samson 
I'd  not  be  strong  enough — well,  you  understand  me.  I 
don't  want  to  give  the  lie  to  all  I've  said." 

' '  Oh,  Roger,  Roger, ' '  sobbed  the  girl,  ' '  I  can  do  noth 
ing  for  you,  and  yet  you  have  saved  me  from  shame  and  are 
giving  us  all  hope  and  life." 

' '  You  are  responsible  for  all  there  is  good  in  me, ' '  he 
tried  to  say  lightly,  ' '  and  I'  11  show  you  in  coming  years  if 
you  have  done  nothing  for  me.  Good-by  now.  It's  all 
right  and  settled  between  us.  Tell  Mrs.  Jocelyn  that  one 
hundred  dollars  are  ready  as  soon  as  she  can  induce  her  hus 
band  to  take  the  step  we  spoke  of. ' '  And  he  hastened  away, 
feeling  that  it  was  time  he  retreated  if  he  would  make  good 
the  generous  words  he  had  spoken. 


434  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 

"HOME,  SWEET    HOME!" 

,  Millie,"  cried  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  entering  with  the 
children  and  throwing  herself  into  a  chair,  fatigued 
and  panting  from  her  walk  and  climb  of  the  stairs,  "  I've  so 
much  to  tell  you.  Oh,  I'm  so  distressed  and  sorry.  It 
seems  that  evil  has  become  our  lot,  and  that  we  bring  noth 
ing  but  evil  to  others.  You,  too,  look  as  if  you  had  been 
crying  as  if  your  heart  would  break. ' ' 

' '  No,  mamma,  I  feel  much  better — more  at  rest  than  I 
have  been  for  a  long  time.  My  tears  have  done  me  good. ' ' 

' '  Well,  I'  m  sorry  I  must  tell  you  something  that  will 
grieve  you  dreadfully,  but  there's  no  help  for  it.  It  does 
seem  when  things  are  going  wrong  in  one's  life,  there's  no 
telling  where  they'll  stop.  You  know  Mrs:  Wheaton  works 
for  Roger's  aunt,  Mrs.  Atwood.  Well,  she  was  there  this 
morning,  and  Mrs.  Atwood  talked  dreadfully  about  us,  and 
how  we  had  inveigled  her  nephew  into  the  worst  of  folly. 
She  told  Mrs.  Wheaton  that  Mr.  Atwood  had  intended  to  give 
Roger  a  splendid  education,  and  might  have  made  him  his 
heir,  but  that  he  demanded,  as  his  condition,  that  he  should 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  such  people  as  we  were,  and 
how  Roger  refused,  and  how  after  a  bitter  quarrel  the  latter 
left  the  house  at  midnight.  She  also  said  that  his  uncle 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him,  and  that  his  fam 
ily  at  home  would  be  almost  equally  angry.  Oh,  1  feel  as  if 
I  could  sink  into  the  earth  with  shame  and  worry.  What 
shall  we  do  ?" 


"  HOME,  S  WEE  T  HOME  !"  435 

"  Surely,  mamma,  there  is  some  mistake.  Roger  was 
here  much  of  the  afternoon,  and  he  never  said  one  word 
about  it,"  Mildred  answered,  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  It's  just  like  him.  He  didn't  want  to  pain  you  with  the 
news.  What  did  he  say  ?"  she  asked,  with  kindling  interest, 
and  Mildred  told  her  substantially  all  that  had  occurred. 

"Well,  Millie,"  said  her  mother  emphatically,  "you 
will  be  the  queerest  girl  on  the  face  of  the  earth  if  you  can' t 
love  him  now,  for  he  has  given  up  everything  for  you.  He 
might  have  been  richer  than  Vinton  Arnold. ' ' 

"  He  must  not  give  up  anything,"  said  Mildred 
resolutely.  "  There  is  reason  in  all  things.  He  is  little 
more  than  a  boy  in  years,  and  he  has  a  boy's  simplicity  ancf 
unworldliness.  I  won't  let  him  sacrifice  himself  for  me. 
He  doesn't  know  what  he  is  doing.  His  aunt's  estimate  of 
such  people  as  we  have  become  is  correct,  and  I'  11  perish  a 
thousand  times  before  I'll  be  the  means  of  dragging  dowij 
such  a  man  as  Roger  Atwood.  If  I  knew  where  to  find  hirj% 
I'd  go  and  tell  him  so  this  moment" 

That  was  a  dreary  hour  in  the  poor  little  home,  but  worse 
things  were  in  store  for  them,  for,  as  Mrs.  Jocelyn  said,  when 
things  are  going  wrong  there  is  a  terrible  logic  about  them, 
and  malign  events  follow  each  other  with  almost  inevitable 
sequence.  All  was  wrong  with  the  head  of  the  family,  and 
terrible  were  the  consequences  to  his  helpless  wife  and  chil 
dren.  Mr.  Jocelyn  heard  a  rumor  of  Mildred's  experience 
in  the  police  court,  and  he  went  to  the  place  that  day  and 
obtained  some  account  of  the  affair.  More  clearly  and 
awfully  than  ever  before  he  comprehended  the  depths  into 
which  he  had  fallen.  He  had  not  been  appealed  to — he  had 
not  even  been  told.  He  did  not  stop  to  consider  how  good 
the  reasons  were  for  the  course  his  family  had  taken,  but, 
blind  with  anger  and  despair,  he  sought  his  only  refuge  from 
the  hell  within  his  breast,  and  began  drinking  recklessly.  By 


436  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

the  time  he  reached  the  tenement  where  he  dwelt  he  was  in 
a  state  of  wild  intoxication.  A  man  at  the  door  called  him  a 
drunken  beast,  at  which  Mr.  Jocelyn  grasped  him  by  the 
throat  and  a  fierce  scuffle  ensued.  Soon  the  whole  popu 
lous  dwelling  was  in  an  uproar,  while  the  man  retreated, 
fighting,  up  the  stairways,  and  his  infuriated  assailant  fol 
lowed  with  oaths  and  curses.  Women  and  children  were 
screaming,  and  men  and  boys  pouring  out  of  their  rooms, 
some  jeering  and  laughing,  and  others  making  timid  and 
futile  efforts  to  appease  and  restrain  the  liquor-crazed  man. 

Suddenly  a  door  opened,  and  a  pale  face  looked  out ;  then 
a  slight  girlish  figure  darted  through  the  crowd  and  clasped 
Mr.  Jocelyn.  He  looked  down  and  recognized  his  daughter 
Mildred.  For  a  moment  he  seemed  a  little  sobered,  and 
then  the  demon  within  him  reasserted  itself.  "  Get  out  of 
my  way  !"  he  shouted.  "I'll  teach  that  infernal  Yankee  to 
insult  a  Southern  officer  and  gentleman.  Let  me  go, ' '  he 
said  furiously,  "  or  I'  11  throw  you  down  the  stairway, ' '  but 
Mildred  clung  to  him  with  her  whole  weight,  and  the  men 
now  from  very  shame  rushed  in  and  overpowered  him. 

He  was  speedily  thrust  within  his  own  doorway,  and  Mil 
dred  turned  the  key  after  him  and  concealed  it  Little 
recked  the  neighbors,  as  they  gradually  subsided  into  quiet, 
that  there  came  a  crash  of  crockery  and  a  despairing  cry 
from  the  Jocelyns'  room.  They  had  witnessed  such  scenes 
before,  and  were  all  too  busy  to  run  any  risk  of  being  sum 
moned  as  witnesses  at  a  police  court  on  the  morrow.  The 
man  whom  Mr.  Jocelyn  had  attacked  said  that  he  would  see 
the  agent  of  the  house  in  the  morning  and  have  the  Jocelyn 
family  sent  away  at  once,  because  a  nuisance,  and  all  were 
content  with  this  arrangement. 

Within  that  locked  door  a  terrible  scene  would  have  been 
enacted  had  it  not  been  for  Mildred's  almost  supernatural 
courage,  for  her  father  was  little  better  than  a  wild  beast  In 


"HOME,  SWEET  HOME /"  437 

his  mad  rush  forward  he  overturned  the  supper-table,  and  the 
evening  meal  lay  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor.  The  poor  wife, 
with  a  cry  in  which  hope  and  her  soul  itself  seemed  to  depart, 
fell  swooning  on  the  children's  bed,  and  the  little  ones  fled 
to  the  darkest  corner  of  Mildred's  room  and  cowered  in 
speechless  fear.  There  was  none  to  face  him  save  the  slight 
girl,  at  whom  he  glared  as  if  he  would  annihilate  her. 

"  Let  me  out  !"  he  said  savagely. 

"  No,"  said  the  girl,  meeting  his  frenzied  gaze  unwaver 
ingly,  ' '  not  until  you  are  sober. ' ' 

He  rushed  to  the  door,  but  could  not  open  it.  Then 
turning  upon  Mildred  he  said,  "  Give  me  the  key — no  words 
• — or  I'll  teach  you  who  is  master." 

There  were  no  words,  but-  only  such  a  look  as  is  rarely 
seen  on  a  woman's  face.  He  raised  his  hand  to  strike  her, 
but  she  did  not  shrink  a  hair's  breadth.  "  Papa,"  she  said, 
in  a  low,  concentrated  tone,  ' '  you  called  yourself  a  Southern 
gentleman.  I  did  not  dream  you  could  strike  a  woman, 
even  when  drunk. 

The  effect  of  her  words  was  magical.  His  hand  sank  to 
his  side.  Then  he  raised  it  and  passed  it  over  his  brow  as  if 
it  all  were  a  horrid  dream.  Without  a  word  he  went  with 
unsteady  step  to  his  own  room,  and  again  Mildred  locked 
the  door  upon  him. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn's  swoon  was  long  and  death-like,  and  before 
Mildred  could  restore  her,  Belle,  returning  from  her  work, 
tried  to  enter,  and  finding  the  door  locked  called  for  admit 
tance.  When  she  crossed  the  threshold  and  saw  the  supper 
dishes  broken  and  scattered  on  the  floor  ;  when  she  saw  her 
mother  looking  as  if  dead,  the  little  ones  crying  at  her  side, 
and  Mildred  scarcely  less  pale  than  the  broken-hearted 
woman,  with  a  desperate  look  in  her  blue  eyes,  the  young 
girl  gave  a  long,  low  cry  of  despair,  and  covering  her  face  with 
her  hands  she  sank  into  a  chair  murmuring,  ' '  I  can' t  endure 


4 .5  3  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

this  any  longer — I'd  rather  die.  We  are  just  going  to  raclt 
and  ruin.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  die,  for  I'm  getting  reckless 
— and — and  wicked.  Oh,  oh,  oh  ! — " 

"  Belle,  come  and  help  me,"  said  Mildred,  in  the  hard, 
constrained  tones  of  one  who  is  maintaining  self-control  by  the 
utmost  effort.  Belle  complied,  but  there  was  an  expression 
on  her  face  that  filled  her  sister's  soul  with  dread. 

It  were  well  perhaps  to  veil  the  agony  endured  in  the 
stricken  household  that  night.  The  sufferings  of  such 
women  as  Mrs.  Jocelyn  and  Mildred  cannot  be  portrayed  in 
words,  and  the  dark  chaos  that  had  come  into  poor  Belle's 
tempted,  despairing,  immature  soul  might  well  make  her 
good  angel  weep.  With  a  nature  craving  sunshine  and  pleas 
ure  like  the  breath  of  life,  she  felt  herself  being  dragged  hope 
lessly  into  darkness,  shame,  and  abject  poverty.  The  poor 
child  was  not  deliberately  contemplating  evil — she  was  scarcely 
capable  of  doing  good  or  evil  deliberately — but  a  youth  who 
had  sought  her  once  before,  and  of  whom  she  had  long  been 
shy,  was  again  hovering  around  her. 

She  was  more  wary  now,  yet  bolder,  and  received  his  ad 
vances  with  a  manner  tinged  with  mocking  coquetry.  He 
was  profuse  with  promises,  and  she  tried  to  believe  them,  but 
in  her  heart  she  could  not,  and  yet  she  did  not  repulse  him 
with  that  stern,  brief  decision  which  forms  the  viewless,  im 
passable  wall  that  hedges  virtue. 

The  sisters  tried  to  remove  the  outward  traces  of  their 
wrecked  home,  and  mechanically  restored  such  order  as  was 
within  their  power,  but  in  their  secret  souls  they  saw  their 
household  gods  overturned  and  trampled  upon,  and,  with 
the  honor  and  manhood  of  their  father,  they  felt  that  night  as 
if  they  had  lost  everything. 

After  they  had  quieted  their  mother  and  brought  the  poor 
creature  a  brief  oblivion,  Mildred  made  a  passionate  appeal 
to  Belle  to  stand  by  her.  The  warm-hearted  girl  cried  and 


"HOME,  SWEET  HOME r  439 

wrung  her  hands  passionately,  but  all  her  trembling  sister 
could  obtain  from  her  were  the  words, 

"  Millie,  we  are  being  dragged  down  I  don't  kno\ff 
where. ' ' 

Events  followed  rapidly.  Before  Mr.  Jocelyn,  sullen, 
nerveless,  racked  with  headache  and  tortured  with  heartache, 
could  leave  his  room  on  the  morrow,  the  agent  of  the  tene 
ment  served  a  notice  on  him  to  the  effect  that  he  must  vacate 
his  rooms  at  once  ;  that  the  other  tenants  complained  of  him 
as  a  nuisance  ;  and  that  he  (the  agent)  would  be  content  to 
lose  the  rent  for  the  few  days  that  had  elapsed  since  the  last 
regular  payment  if  they  would  all  go  out  at  once.  The  angry 
reply  was  that  they  would  move  that  day,  and,  without  a 
word,  he  left  his  family  in  suspense.  In  the  course  of  the 
forenoon  he  returned  with  a  furniture  van,  and  had  so  braced 
himself  with  opium  that  he  was  able  to  assist  effectively,  yet 
morosely,  in  the  packing  and  removing  of  their  fast-dwin 
dling  effects,  for  everything  not  essential  had  been  sold.  His 
•wife  and  daughter  did  not  remonstrate — they  were  too  dis 
pirited  for  that — but  in  dreary  apathy  did  his  bidding  as  far 
as  their  strength  permitted,  feeling  meanwhile  that  any 
change  could  scarcely  be  for  the  worse. 

Mildred  almost  felt  that  it  was  for  the  better,  for  their  new 
shelter  was  in  a  small  rear  tenement  not  far  from  the  old 
mansion,  and  was  reached  from  the  street  by  a  long  covered 
passageway.  To  her  morbid  fancy  it  suggested  the  hiding- 
place  that  her  heart  craved.  She  now  scarcely  heeded  the 
facts  that  the  place  was  anything  but  cleanly  and  that 
their  neighbors  were  more  unpromising  in  appearance  than 
those  they  had  just  left.  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  so  ill  and  weak 
that  she  ought  not  to  raise  her  hands,  and  Mildred  felt  that 
her  strength  was  unequal  to  the  task  of  even  arranging  their 
household  articles  so  as  to  make  the  poor  little  nook  inhabit 
able.  She  therefore  went  for  their  old  stanch  ally  Mrs. 


440  W I  THOU  7^  A   HOME. 

Wheaton,  who  returned  with  her  and  wrought  such  miracles 
as  the  wretched  place  permitted  of.  In  just  foreboding  she 
shook  her  head  over  the  prospects  of  her  friends  in  such  a 
neighborhood,  for  her  experienced  eyes  enabled  her  to  gauge 
very  correctly  the  character  of  the  people  who  lived  across  the 
hall  and  in  the  upper  and  lower  stories.  They  were  chiefly 
ignorant  and  debased  Irish  families,  and  the  good  woman' s 
fears  were  not  wholly  due  to  race  antipathy.  In  the  tene 
ment  from  which  they  came,  the  people,  although  poor,  were 
in  the  main  stolid,  quiet,  and  hard-working,  but  here  on 
every  side  were  traces  and  hints,  even  at  midday,  of  degraded 
and  vicious  lives.  The  classes  in  the  tenements  appear  to 
have  a  moral  gravity  or  affinity  which  brings  to  the  same  level 
and  locality  those  who  are  alike,  and  woe  be  to  aliens  who 
try  to  dwell  among  them.  The  Jocelyns  did  not  belong  to 
the  tenement  classes  at  all,  and  Mrs.  Wheaton  correctly  fear 
ed  that  the  purgatory  which  was  the  corner-stone  in  their 
neighbors'  creeds  would  be  realized  in  the  temporal  experi 
ence  of  the  Southern  family.  Now  that  the  step  had  been 
taken,  however,  she  concealed  her  anxieties,  and  did  her  best 
to  avoid  collisions  with  the  burly,  red-faced  women  and  inso 
lent  children  whose  officious  offers  of  help  were  but  thin  veils 
to  a  coarse  curiosity  and  a  desire  for  petty  pilfering.  Mildred 
shuddered  at  the  people  about  her,  and  was  cold  and  brief  in 
her  words.  As  it  was,  Fred  nearly  brought  on  general  hos 
tilities  by  resisting  a  shock-headed  little  urchin  who  had  not 
the  remotest  regard  for  the  principles  of  meum  and  fuum.  As 
the  sun  declined  the  general  verdict  of  the  neighbors  was, 
"  They  thinks  themselves  too  foine  for  the  loikes  o'  us,  but 
we'll  tache  'em." 

After  Mrs.  Wheaton  had  departed  with  many  misgivings, 
Mildred  took  her  father  aside  and  told  him  plainly  what 
had  occurred  the  evening  before.  He  sat  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  hands,  and  listened  without  a  word.  Indeed, 


' '  HOME,  S  WEE  T  HOME .'"  44 » 

he  was  so  overwhelmed  with  shame  and  remorse  that  he  was 
speechless.  ' '  Papa,  look  at  me, ' '  she  said  at  last. 

Slowly  he  raised  his  bloodshot,  fearful  eyes  to  hers,  and 
the  expression  of  his  child's  face  made  him  tremble. 

"  Papa,"  she  said  slowly,  and  her  tones  were  both  sad 
and  stern,  "you  must  never  come  home  drunk  again. 
Another  such  scene  might  cost  mamma  her  life.  If  you  will 
take  opium,  we  cannot  help  it,  but  you  must  drink  no  more 
vile  liquor.  I  have  now  learned  from  bitter  experience  what 
the  latter  means,  and  what  it  must  lead  to.  I  shall  not  fail 
in  love  and  duty  to  you,  but  I  cannot  permit  mamma,  Belle, 
and  the  children  to  be  utterly  destroyed.  You  may  do  some 
wild,  reckless  deed  that  would  blast  us  all  beyond  remedy  ; 
therefore,  if  you  have  a  particle  of  self-control  left,  let 
rum  alone,  or  else  we  must  protect  ourselves.  We  have  en 
dured  it  thus  far,  not  with  patience  and  resignation,  but  in  a 
sort  of  apathetic  despair.  This  apathy  has  been  broken. 
Belle  is  becoming  reckless,  mamma  is  dying  of  a  broken 
heart,  and  the  little  ones  are  exposed  to  influences  that 
threaten  to  blight  their  lives.  There  must  be  some  change 
for  the  better.  We  must  at  least  be  relieved  from  the  fear  of 
bodily  harm  and  the  intolerable  shame  of  such  scenes  as  oc 
curred  last  night.  In  our  hard  struggle  we  must  find  some 
kind  of  a  refuge  and  some  degree  of  quiet  and  peace  in  what 
we  call  home.  It  is  no  kindness  to  you  to  endure  in  silence 
any  longer,  and  I  now  see  that  it  will  be  fatal  to  those  we 
both  love.  You  may  not  be  able  to  refrain  from  opium,  but 
you  can  and  must  give  up  liquor.  If  you  cannot,  and  there 
is  a  remedy  in  the  land,  we  must  avail  ourselves  of  it.  I  do 
not  know  what  kind  of  a  place  you  have  brought  us  to,  but 
I  feel  sure  that  we  shall  need  protection.  If  you  should  come 
home  again  as  you  did  last  night,  I  am  satisfied,  from  the 
looks  of  the  people  in  this  house,  that  we  should  have  a  scene 
of  violence  that  I  shudder  to  think  of.  You  had  better — it 


442  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

would  be  more  merciful  to  stab  mamma  to  her  heart  than  to 
cause  her  death  by  drunkenness." 

Her  words  were  not  threatening,  but  were  spoken  with  the 
calmness  of  inexorable  resolve,  and  he  sat  before  her  with  an 
ashen  face,  trembling  like  an  aspen,  for  it  was  like  the  Day 
of  Judgment  to  him.  Then  in  gentler  and  pleading  accents 
she  told  him  of  their  plan  to  place  him  under  skilful  treat 
ment,  and  besought  him  to  yield  himself  up  to  the  care  of 
one  who  had  won  much  reputation  in  dealing  with  cases  like 
his  own  ;  but  all  the  encouragement  she  could  obtain  were 
the  words,  "I'll  think  of  it." 

The  memory  of  those  fearful  days  on  shipboard,  when  he 
was  without  morphia,  made  him  recoil  with  unspeakable 
dread  from  a  like  ordeal  again,  but  he  promised  earnestly 
that  he  would  indulge  no  more  in  liquor.  With  the  cunning 
of  an  opium  maniac  he  understood  his  danger,  knowing  that 
further  scenes  of  violence  would  lead  to  his  arrest  and  im 
prisonment.  Of  his  gentle  wife  he  had  no  fears,  but  this 
frail,  resolute  girl  subdued  him.  He  saw  that  he  was  driving 
a  strong  nature  to  desperation — saw  it  with  all  the  agony  and 
remorse  of  a  naturally  good  father  whose  better  nature  was 
bound  hand  and  foot  by  depraved  appetites.  He  was  con 
scious  of  the  terrible  wrong  that  he  was  inflicting  on  those  for 
whom  he  once  would  have  died  to  shield  them  from  a  breath 
of  dishonor.  But,  come  what  might,  he  must  have  opium 
now,  and  to  counteract  the  words  of  his  daughter  he  took 
enough  morphia  to  kill  all  the  wretched  inmates  of  the  tene 
ment.  Under  its  slight  exhilaration  he  felt  some  hope  of 
availing  himself  of  the  proposition  that  he  should  go  to  a 
curative  institution,  and  he  half  promised  that  he  would  be 
fore  long.  At  this  point  the  painful  interview  ended,  and 
Mildred  went  forBalle,  who  as  yet  had  no  knowledge  of  their 
change  of  abode. 

As  the  two  girls  returned,  in  the  dusk  of  evening,  to  the 


"HOME,   SWEET  HOME!"  443 

long  dark  passageway  that  led  to  the  tenement  in  which  they 
now  had  rooms,  Mildred  trembled  with  fear  as  she  saw  that 
its  entrance  was  surrounded  and  blocked  by  a  group  of  rough- 
looking  young  men  and  boys.  Belle  pushed  boldly  through 
them,  although  they  leered,  laughed,  and  made  coarse  jests. 
Mildred  followed  shrinkingly,  with  downcast  eyes.  "  We'll 
tache  'em  to  be  neighborly,"  were  the  last  words  she  heard, 
showing  that  the  young  ruffians  had  already  obtained  their 
cue  from  their  depraved  and  low-lived  parents. 

They  looked  forward  to  a  dismal  evening,  but  a  loyal 
friend  came  to  their  rescue.  Roger,  having  arranged  the 
room  selected  for  him  by  Mr.  Wentworth,  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  see  those  who  were  ever  uppermost  in  his 
thoughts.  In  dismay  and  anxiety  he  learned  of  their  hasty 
removal  and  something  of  the  causes  which  led  to  it.  From 
the  janitor  he  obtained  their  present  address,  and  the  appear 
ance  of  his  broad  shoulders  and  fearless  face  had  a  restrain 
ing  influence  on  the  mischief-making  propensities  of  the 
rowdies  who  kennelled  in  the  vicinity.  The  alien  new-com 
ers  evidently  were  not  friendless,  and  there  was  hesitation  in 
the  half-formed  measures  for  their  annoyance. 

Roger  remained  an  hour  or  two,  aiding  the  girls  in  trying 
to  make  the  rooms  more  homelike,  which,  however,  was 
rather  a  hopeless  task.  Mr.  Jocelyn,  half  stupefied  by 
opium,  retreated  to  one  of  the  small  dark  closet  bedrooms, 
and  left  the  scene  unembarrassed  by  his  presence.  Roger  re 
marked  emphatically  that  the  tenement  was  no  place  for 
them,  but  Mildred  told  him  that  the  rent  had  been  paid  for 
a  month  in  advance,  and  that  they  must  try  to  endure  it,  add 
ing,  ' '  The  twenty-five  dollars  that  you  and  Mr.  Wentworth 
obtained  for  me  has  been,  after  all,  a  perfect  Godsend." 

He  was  touched,  and  bound  to  her  with  bands  of  steel  by 
the  perfect  trust  she  now  reposed  in  him,  and  he  determined 
to  watch  over  her  like  an  amiable  dragon,  making  it  his  first 


444  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

and  constant  thought  how  to  rescue  them  all  from  their 
wretched  condition.  He  was  much  surprised,  however,  when 
Mildred  said  to  him,  as  he  was  preparing  to  leave,  "  Mr. 
Atwood,  there  is  something  I  wish  to  say  to  you.  Will  you 
let  me  walk  a  block  or  two  with  you,  and  then  bring  me 
back  again  ?" 

Roger  tried  to  disguise  his  feelings  by  saying  laughingly 
that  he  would  "walk  to  Spuyten  Duyvil"  with  her,  but 
added,  "  You  are  too  tired  to  go  out  at  all  to-night.  I  will 
come  to-morrow  evening,"  and  he  remonstrated  so  earnestly 
and  kindly  that  she  yielded,  promising  to  rest  much  of  the 
following  day. 

"  Oh,  Millie,"  said  her  mother,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  it 
does  my  heart  good  to  see  that  there  is  some  one  who  knows 
how  and  has  the  will  to  take  care  of  you." 

'  Yes,"  cried  Belle,  "  this  place  is  a  perfect  hole.  It's 
not  fit  for  nice  girls  to  be  seen  in,  and  if  Roger  gives  us  a 
chance  to  get  out  of  it  you  had  better  take  it  as  soon  as  pos 
sible.  I  give  you  fair  warning." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Belle  ?"  asked  her  mother. 

Belle  made  no  answer,  but  went  to  her  closet  bedroom 
with  a  morose,  sullen  look  on  her  face.  The  poor  woman 
looked  inquiringly  at  Mildred,  who  said  soothingly,  "  Don't 
worry,  mamma.  Belle  is  a  little  tired  and  discouraged  to 
night.  She'll  be  in  a  better  mood  in  the  morning." 

When  all  were  sleeping  from  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  she 
sat  alone  with  clasped  hands  and  eyes  so  wide  and  troubled 
that  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  never  close  them  again. 
"  Alas  !"  she  sighed,  "  what  must  I  do  ?  He  is  our  good 
genius,  and  yet  I  must  drive  him  away.  He  must  not  sacri 
fice  all  his  prospects  for  us.  It  would  be  most  cruel  and 
unjust  to  let  him  do  so.  I  must  reason  with  him  and  show 
him  plainly  that  it  would  not  be  right,  and  absolve  him  from 
every  shadow  of  blame  for  leaving  us  to  such  fate  as  God 


"  HOME,   S  WEE  T  HOME  !"  445 

permits.     Because  he  is  so  generous  and  brave  he  shall  not 
suffer  a  loss  which  he  cannot  now  comprehend." 

At   last,    from   utter  weariness,    she   fell  into  a   broken 

sleejx 


44$  WITHOUT  A  HOME, 


CHAPTER    XL. 

NEIGHBORS. 

PROMPTLY  the  following  evening  Roger  appeared,  and 
with  glowing  cheeks  told  his  friends  that  Mr.  Went- 
worth  had  found  him  employment  in  a  lawyer's  office,  which 
would  enable  him  to  pay  his  way  and  at  the  same  time  give 
him  much  practical  insight  into  his  chosen  profession. 
Mildred  looked  at  him  wistfully,  but  her  resolution  was  not 
shaken,  and  they  went  out  together,  Roger  saying,  with  a 
smiling  nod  at  Belle,  "  It  will  be  your  turn  to-morrow  even 
ing." 

"  Roger,"  said  Mildred,  "  I've  much  to  say  to  you,  and 
it  is  of  great  importance  that  you  should  listen  calmly  and 
sensibly." 

"All  right,"  he  answered  laughingly.  "You  will  find 
me  as  quiet  and  impressible  as  the  oysters  over  which  we'll 
have  our  talk,  but  only  on  this  condition.  You  shall  not 
fatigue  yourself  by  a  word  here  in  the  street."  Nevertheless 
she  felt  the  phlegmatic  creature's  arm  trembling  under  her 
hand.  After  a  moment  he  went  on,  in  the  same  light  way, 
"  I  want  you  to  understand  I  am  not  going  to  be  a  friend  in 
name  merely  ;  I  intend  to  assert  my  rights,  and  you  had 
better  learn  from  the  start  that  I  am  the  most  tremendously 
obstinate  fellow  in  the  city. ' ' 

"  But  you  must  listen  to  reason." 

"  Certainly  ;  so  must  you." 

"To  begin  with,"  she  resumed,  "I've  had  my  supper, 
and  so  don' t  need  any  more. ' ' 


NEIGHBORS.  .  447 

"  I  haven't  had  mine,  and  am  ravenous.  The  idea  of 
talking  reason  to  a  hungry  man  !  I  know  of  a  nice  quiet 
restaurant  which,  at  this  hour,  we'll  have  almost  to  ourselves. 
You  surely  won't  be  so  unsocial  as  to  let  me  eat  alone." 

"  Well,  if  I  yield  in  trifles  you  must  yield  in  matters  that 
are  vital.  Why  did  you  not  get  your  supper  before  ?" 

"  Too  busy  ;  and  then,  to  be  honest,  I  knew  I'd  enjoy  it 
a  hundredfold  more  with  you.  I'm  a  social  animal." 

Mildred  sighed,  for  this  good-comradeship  was  making 
her  duty  very  hard. 

They  soon  reached  the  place  in  question,  and  Roger  or 
dered  enough  for  four. 

"  You  don't  realize  what  you  are  doing  in  any  respect," 
said  Mildred  in  smiling  reproof. 

"  Wait  half  an  hour  before  you  settle  that  question,"  he 
replied  with  a  confident  nod.  "  I'll  soon  prove  to  you  what 
an  unsentimental  being  I  am." 

"  Oh,"  thought  Mildred,  "  how  can  I  give  up  his  friend 
ship  when  he  acts  in  this  way  ?  And  yet  I  must  He  must 
be  shown  just  how  he  is  wronging  himself."  When  the 
waiter  had  departed  she  looked  straight  into  his  eyes  with 
one  of  her  steadfast  glances,  and  said  earnestly,  ' '  Roger,  I 
appreciate  your  generous  kindness  far  more  than  any  words 
can  tell  you,  but  the  time  has  come  for  me  to  act  resolutely 
and  finally.  Sad  experience  has  taught  me  more  within  a 
year  than  most  women  learn  in  a  lifetime.  Mrs.  Wheaton, 
who  often  works  for  your  aunt,  has  told  us  of  the  sacrifice 
you  have  made  in  our  behalf,  and  we  cannot  permit  it  If 
not  in  years,  I'm  much  older  than  you  in  other  respects,  and 
you  don't  realize — " 

Roger  interrupted  her  by  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and 
breaking  out  into  an  irrepressible  laugh.  ' '  So  you  are  go 
ing  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  the  small  boy's  interests?  My 
venerable  friend,  permit  me  to  remind  you  that  I  am  six  feet 


448  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

high  in  my  stockings,  and  have  lately  reached  the  mature 
age  of  twenty-one. ' ' 

"Roger,"  replied  Mildred,  with  a  pained  look  on  her 
face,  "  I'm  in  earnest,  and  I've  lain  awake  nearly  all  of  two 
nights  thinking  about  it." 

"  Millie,  your  oysters  are  getting  cold.  You  don't  know 
anything  about  boys,  much  less  about  men.  Don't  you 
know  I'll  be  much  more  amiable  after  supper?  It's  the 
nature  of  the  male  animal,  and  what's  the  use  of  going 
against  nature  ?' ' 

"  Oh,  Roger,  listen  to  me.  I'm  desperately  in  earnest. 
To  let  you  sacrifice  such  prospects  as  Mrs.  Wheaton  said  your 
uncle  held  out  to  you  for  our  sakes  oppresses  me  with  guilt. 
I  can't  eat  anything — you  don't  realize — " 

"  Millie  Jocelyn,"  said  Roger,  his  face  becoming  grave 
and  gentle,  "  I  know  what  you  are  driving  at.  You  might 
as  well  try  to  stop  Spring  from  coming  on.  I'm  going  to 
be  your  honest,  faithful  friend,  so  help  me  God  !  Even  if 
you  left  me  now  and  refused  to  speak  to  me  again,  I'd  watch 
over  you  and  yours  in  every  way  I  could.  It's  my  good 
destiny,  and  I  thank  God  for  it,  for  I  feel  it's  making  a  man 
of  me.  I  won' t  deceive  you  in  one  iota,  and  I  admit  to  my 
shame  that  my  worldly  old  uncle  tempted  me  that  night, 
especially  after  I  saw  from  your  face  just  how  you  felt.  Even 
then  my  hope  was  that  I  could  do  more  for  you  by  yielding 
to  his  views  than  if  I  stood  out  against  them,  but  a  little 
thought  convinced  me  that  you  would  starve  rather  than  take 
aid  from  one  who  would  not  give  open  friendship  and  com 
panionship,  and  you  would  be  right.  Oh,  I  exult  in  your 
pride,  and  respect  you  for  it.  You  are  my  ideal  woman, 
Millie,  and  if  my  uncle  had  owned  this  island,  and  had 
offered  it  all  to  me,  I'd  have  made  a  wretched  bargain  in  giv 
ing  up  for  it  the  privilege  of  being  here  this  evening,  with  the 
i'ight  to  look  you  straight  in  the  eyes  without  sharne.  If  I 


NEIGHBORS.  449 

had  yielded  to  him  then,  as  the  devil  tempted  me  to,  I'd 
never  have  known  another  day  of  self-respect  or  happiness. 
I'm  building  now  on  the  rock  of  honor  and  manhood,  and 
you  can't  say  anything  that  will  change  my  purpose.  I 
know  what  I  am  about  if  I  am  only  a  '  boy  ; '  and  Mr.  Went- 
worth,  who  has  been  told  all,  approves  of  my  course.  So 
eat  your  oysters,  Millie,  and  submit  to  the  inevitable." 

"  Oh  Roger,  Roger,  what  shall  I  say  to  you  ?" 

"  Look  here,  Millie  ;  if  you  were  in  my  place,  would  you 
desert  a  brave,  true  girl  in  misfortune  ?  No  ;  unlike  me,  you 
would  never  have  hesitated  a  moment. ' ' 

"  But,  Roger,  as  you  say  you — you — saw  in  niy  face  a 
truth  that  absolved  you — " 

' '  What  I  saw  in  your  face, ' '  he  said  gravely,  ' '  is  my  mis^ 
fortune  It  is  not  anything  for  which  you  are  to  blame  in 
the  least.  And,  Millie,  I'd  rather  have  your  friendship  than 
any  other  woman's  love.  I'm  choosing  my  own  course  with 
my  eyes  open,  and,  thank  God,  I've  chosen  rightly.  I'd 
have  been  the  most  miserable  fellow  in  the  whole  city  if  I 
had  chosen  otherwise.  Now  I'm  happy.  It's  all  right. 
I've  vowed  to  be  a  brother  to  Belle,  and  to  <io  all  in  my 
power  for  your  sweet,  gentle  mother.  I've  vowed  to  be  your 
true  friend  in  all  respects,  and  if  you  protested  till  Doomsday 
it  wouldn't  make  any  difference.  I've  written  to  my  mother, 
and  I  know  her  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  she  will  approve 
of  my  course.  So  will  my  father  by  and  by.  He  isn'  t  bad 
at  heart,  but,  like  uncle,  a  dollar  is  so  large  in  his  eyes  that 
it  hides  the  sun.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I'm  just  as  much  of  an 
Atwood  as  he  is,  and  can  be  just  as  obstinate  in  doing  what  I 
know  to  be  right  as  he  can  be  in  requiring  a  course  that 
would  spoil  my  life.  Millie,  there  never  was  a  scldfe::.  in  all 
the  past,  braver  than  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be,  and  you 
are  a  delicate  girl  that  I  could  carry  like  a  child.  Do  you 
advise  a  young,  strong-handed  fellow  to  play  the  coward,  and 


450  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

desert  the  women- 1  love  and  honor  in  their  sore  need  and 
danger  ?  You  have  looked  on  only  one  side  of  this  ques 
tion,  and  you  must  not  think  so  meanly  of  me  as  to  even 
suggest  anything  of  the  kind  again." 

"  Roger,  Roger,  can  you  realize  what  you  are  saying?" 
Mildred  faltered,  a  slow,  painful  flush  crimsoning  her  face. 
"  How  can  you  honor  those  who  are  so  disgraced?  You 
don't  know  what  papa  has  become.  The  world  will  share 
your  uncle's  views  concerning  us." 

"  I  do  know  all  about  your  father,  Millie,  and  I  pity  him 
from  the  depths  of  my  soul.  He  is  the  dark  background 
which  brings  out  your  absolute  truth  and  purity.  I  do  honor 
you  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn  as  I  honor  my  own  mother,  and  I  in 
tend  to  prove  myself  worthy  of  your  respect  at  least,  for  its 
loss  would  be  fatal  to  me.  I  even  honor  your  rare  fidelity, 
though  it  stands  so  awfully  in  my  way.  Now,  surely,  we  un 
derstand  each  other.  But,  come,  this  is  far  too  serious  talk 
for  a  restaurant  and  the  supper-table.  I  am  now  going  to 
give  my  whole  soul  to  oysters,  and  I  adjure  you  by  our 
bonds  to  do  the  same.  Here's  to  our  friendship,  Millie,  and 
may  I  be  choked  the  moment  I'm  false  to  it!"  and  he 
drained  a  generous  cup  of  coffee. 

"  You  won't  listen  to  me,  then,"  she  said,  with  a  face 
wherein  perplexity,  relief,  and  gratitude  were  blended. 

' '  I  won' t  listen  to  a  word  that  will  make  me  the  most 
miserable  wretch  in  the  world,  and  you  won't  get  rid  of  me 
as  long  as  I  live.  So,  there,  you  might  as  well  submit  to 
fate  and  eat  your  oysters. ' ' 

Her  expression  became  very  grave  and  resolute.  "  Roger," 
she  said  slowly,  ' '  I  did  not  know  there  was  so  kind  and  true 
a  man  in  the  world.  I  will  do  anything  that  you  can  ask." 

His  eyes  suddenly  became  infinitely  wistful  and  tender,  and 
then  he  gave  himself  a  little  characteristic  shake  as  he  said, 
rather  brusquely,  ' '  I  accept  that  promise,  and  shall  at  once 


NEIGHBORS.  451 

tax  it  to  the  utmost  with  the  request  that  you  eat  a  jolly 
good  supper  and  call  on  me  every  time  I  can  aid  you." 

Her  glance  in  response  warmed  his  soul,  and  then  she 
gave  herself  up  to  social  friendliness  in  a  way  which  proved 
that  a  great  burden  had  been  taken  from  her  heart.  On 
their  way  home,  however,  she  hinted  her  iears  in  regard  to 
Belle,  and  Roger  understood  her  thoroughly.  For  the  next 
few  days  he  watched  the  young  girl,  and  soon  satisfied  him 
self  as  to  the  character  of  the  man  who  was  pursuing  her. 
His  object  now  was  to  obtain  some  ground  for  brotherly 
interference,  and  one  Saturday  evening,  while  following  Belle 
home,  he  saw  a  young  man  join  her  and  receive  an  undoubt 
ed  welcome.  He  soon  became  aware  that  matters  were  pro 
gressing  fast  and  far,  for  the  young  people  wandered  off  into 
unfrequented  streets,  and  once,  where  the  shadows  were 
deepest,  he  saw  Belle's  attendant  steal  his  arm  about  her 
waist  and  kiss  her.  Belle's  protest  was  not  very  vigorous, 
and  when  at  last  they  parted  in  the  passageway  that  led  to 
Belle's  home  the  kiss  was  repeated  and  not  resented  at  all. 

Roger  followed  the  young  man,  and  said,  "  You  have  just 
parted  from  Miss  Belle  Jocelyn." 

"  Well,  that's  my  affair." 

:<  You  will  find  yourself  so  greatly  mistaken  that  you  had 
better  answer  my  questions  honestly.  What  are  your  inten 
tions  toward  her  ?  I  have  the  right  to  ask. ' ' 

"  None  of  your  business." 

"  Look  here,  young  man,  she  has  acknowledged  me  as 
her  brother,  and  as  a  brother  I  feel  toward  her.  I've  only  a 
few  plain  words  to  say.  If  your  intentions  are  honorable 
I'll  not  interfere,  although  I  know  all  about  you,  and  you 
are  not  my  style  of  man  by  any  means.  If  your  intentions 
are  not  honorable,  and  you  do  not  cease  your  attentions,  I'll 
break  every  bone  in  your  body — I  swear  it  by  the  God  who 
made  me." 


452  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

"  Go  to  the  devil  !"  muttered  the  fellow. 

' '  No,  sir,  nor  shall  I  permit  you  to  take  one  dear  to  me 
to  the  devil,  but  I  pledge  my  word  to  send  you  straight  to 
him  if  you  harm  Belle  Jocelyn.  Here,  stop  and  look  me  in 
the  eyes  under  this  lamp.  You  kissed  her  twice  to-night. 
Do  you  intend  to  make  her  your  wife  ?' ' 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  sullen,  half-frightened  face 
was  an  unmistakable  response.  "  I  understand  you  now," 
said  Roger  savagely,  taking  the  fellow  by  the  throat,  ' '  and 
I'll  send  you  swiftly  to  perdition  if  you  don't  promise  to  let 
that  girl  alone,"  and  his  gleaming  eyes  and  iron  grasp  awed 
the  incipient  roue  so  completely  that  he  quavered  out, 

"  Oh,  let  go.  If  you  feel  the  girl  is  your  property,  I'll  let 
her  alone. ' ' 

Roger  gave  him  a  wrathful  push  which  precipitated  his 
limp  form  into  the  gutter,  and  growled  as  he  walked  off,  "  If 
you  value  your  life,  keep  your  promise. ' ' 

An  evening  or  two  later  Roger  said  to  Belle,  whom  he  had 
taken  out  for  a  stroll,  "  I  kept  my  word — I  cowhided  that 
fellow  Bissel,  who  played  such  a  dastardly  part  toward  your 
sister.  Of  course  I  did  not  want  to  get  myself  into  trouble, 
or  give  him  any  power  over  me,  so  I  found  out  his  haunts 
and  followed  him.  One  night,  as  he  was  returning  rather 
late  from  a  drinking  saloon,  I  spoiled  his  good  looks  with  a 
dozen  savage  cuts.  He  was  too  confused  to  see  who  it  was 
in  the  dark,  and  to  mislead  him  more  thoroughly  I  said,  with 
the  last  blow,  '  Take  that  for  lying  and  causing  a  poor  girl  to 
be  sent  to  prison. '  He  thinks,  no  doubt,  that  some  friend 
of  the  thief  was  the  one  who  punished  him.  What's  more, 
he  won' t  forget  the  lashing  I  gave  him  till  his  dying  day,  and 
if  I  mistake  not  his  smooth  face  will  long  bear  my  marks." 

Belle  gave  but  a  languid  approval,  for  she  had  missed  her 
lover  for  the  last  two  evenings.  "  Belle,"  he  continued, 
gravel)'  but  gently,  "  I  was  tempted  to  choke  the  life  out  of 


NEIGHBORS.  453 

a  fellow  the  other  night,  and  it  was  the  life  o£  one  who  kissed 
you  twice." 

She  dropped  her  hand  from  his  arm,  but  he  replaced  it  and 
held  it  tightly  as  he  resumed,  "  I'm  no  make-believe  brother, 
you  know.  I'm  just  such  a  brother  as  I  would  be  if  I  had 
been  born  with  you  on  a  Southern  plantation.  Though 
the  young  man  was  not  to  my  mind,  I  told  him  that  if  his 
intentions  were  honorable  I  would  not  interfere,  but  I  soon 
learned  that  he  was  an  out-and-out  scoundrel,  and  I  said 
words  to  him  that  will  make  him  shun  you  as  he  would 
death.  Belle,  I  would  kill  him  as  I  used  to  club  rattle 
snakes  in  the  country,  if  he  harmed  a  hair  of  your  head,  and 
he  knows  it." 

"  You  misjudge  him  utterly,"  cried  Belle  in  a  passion, 
"  and  you  have  just  driven  away  the  one  friend  that  I  had  in 
all  the  world.  I  won't  stand  it.  I'm  not  a  baby,  and  I 
won't  be  treated  like  one." 

Roger  let  her  storm  on  without  a  word,  but  at  last,  when 
she  concluded,  "  I've  no  father  worthy  of  the  name,  and 
so  I'll  take  care  of  myself,"  he  asked  quietly, 

"  How  about  your  mother,  Belle  ?" 

In  strong  revulsion  the  impulsive  girl  gave  way  to  an 
equally  passionate  outburst  of  grief.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  I 
wish  1  were  dead  !" 

"  Belle,"  said  Roger,  very  gently  now,  "  if  you  listened 
to  that  fellow  you  would  soon  make  that  wish  in  earnest. 
Now  in  your  heart  you  don't  mean  it  at  all.  You  don't  love 
such  a  man,  and  you  know  it.  Why  should  you  throw  your 
young,  beautiful  life  into  the  gutter  ?  It  is  a  mere  reckless 
protest  against  your  unhappy  life.  Belle,  you  are  not  seven' 
teen,  and  you  may  live  till  you  are  seventy  if  you  take  care 
of  yourself.  Think  of  the  changes  for  the  better  that  may 
come  in  that  time.  They  shall  come,  too.  I  shall  share 
with  you  all  my  fortunes,  and  you  have  told  me  many  a  time 


454  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

that  I  was  sure  to  succeed.  I  pledge  you  my  word  inat  r*te- 
fore  many  years  you  shall  have  good  honest  men  at  jour 
feet,"  and  he  reasoned  with  her  so  sensibly,  and  pevted  and 
soothed  her  so  kindly,  that  at  last  she  clung  to  his  arm  a>  if  it 
were  a  defence  indeed,  and  said,  with  tearful  eyes,  ' '  YO.U  are 
a  brother  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word,  and  I  wonder  you 
have  patience  with  such  a  reckless,  passionate  fool  as  I  am. 
I'  m  not  fit  for  you  to  speak  to. ' ' 

"  No,  Belle,  you  are  not  bad  at  heart — far  from  it.  You 
are  half  desperate  from  your  present  misfortunes,  and  in  your 
blind  impulse  to  escape  you  would  make  matters  infinitely 
worse.  Be  patient,  dear.  It's  a  long  lane  that  has  no  turn 
ing.  To  one  so  young  as  you  are  life  promises  very  much, 
if  it  is  not  spoiled  at  the  beginning,  and  Mr.  Wentworth 
would  tell  us  that  there  is  a  heaven  beyond  it  all." 

The  influence  of  this  interview  did  not  speedily  pass  from 
her  mind,  and  by  her  gentler  and  more  patient  bearing  Mil 
dred  was  taught  again  how  much  she  owed  to  one  whom  she 
had  so  long  repelled. 

Mr.  Wentworth  succeeded  in  interesting  the  lady  to  whom 
he  had  referred  in  Mildred,  and  a  visit  from  the  young  girl 
confirmed  her  good  impressions.  As  a  result,  sufficient  work 
was  found  or  made  to  give  Mildred  steady  employment 
Mr.  Jocelyn  was  comparatively  quiet  and  much  at  home. 
Often  he  was  excessively  irritable  and  exasperating  in  words 
and  manner,  but  no  longer  violent  from  bestial  excess.  He 
put  off  the  project  of  going  to  a  curative  institution,  with  the 
true  opium  inertia  and  procrastination,  and  all  efforts  to 
lead  him  to  definite  action  proved  fruitless.  His  presence, 
however,  and  his  quiet,  haughty  ways,  with  Roger's  frequent 
visits,  did  much  for  a  time  to  restrain  the  ill-disposed  people 
around  them,  but  the  inevitable  contact  with  so  much  de 
pravity  and  coarseness  was  almost  unendurable. 

Now  that  Mildred  no  longer  went  out  to  her  work,  she 


NEIGHBORS.  455 

taxed  her  ingenuity  to  the  utmost  to  amuse  Fred  and  Min 
nie,  that  she  might  keep  them  from  the  horrible  associations 
beyond  their  door,  but  her  father's  irritability  often  rendered 
it  impossible  for  them  to  remain  in  the  room,  and.  Child 
like,  they  would  assimilate  somewhat  with  the  little  heathen 
among  whom  their  lot  was  now  cast. 

Poor  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  sinking  under  her  sorrows.  She 
did  not  complain  :  she  blamed  herself  with  a  growing  mor 
bidness  for  the  ruin  of  her  husband  and  the  hard  lot  of  her 
children,  and  hope  deferred  was  making  her  heart  sick  in 
deed.  Her  refined,  gentle  nature  recoiled  with  an  indescrib 
able  repugnance  from  her  surroundings,  and  one  day  she 
received  a  shock  from  which  she  never  fully  recovered. 

Her  husband  was  out,  and  Mildred  had  gone  to  deliver 
some  work.  The  children,  whom  she  tried  to  keep  with 
her,  broke  away  at  last  and  left  the  door  open.  Before  she 
could  close  it  a  drunken  woman  stumbled  in,  and,  sinking 
into  a  chair,  she  let  a  bundle  slip  from  her  hands.  It  fell 
on  the  floor,  unrolled,  and  a  dead  infant  lay  before  Mrs. 
Jocelyn' s  horrified  gaze.  Her  cries  for  help  brought  a  stout, 
red-faced  woman  from  across  the  hallway,  and  she  seemed  to 
understand  what  was  such  a  fearful  mystery  to  Mrs.  Jocelyn, 
for  she  took  the  unwelcome  intruder  by  the  shoulder  and 
tried  to  get  her  to  go  out  hastily,  but  the  inebriated  wretch 
was  beyond  shame,  fear,  or  prudence.  Pulling  out  of  her 
pocket  a  roll  of  bills  she  exclaimed,  in  hideous  exultation, 

"  Faix,  I'oive  had  a  big  day's  work.  Trhree  swell  families 
on  the  Avenue  guv  me  all  this  to  burry  the  brat.  Burry  it  ? 
Divil  a  bit.  It's  makin'  me  fortin'.  Cud  we  on}' git  dead 
babbies  enough  we'd  all  be  rich,  Bridget,  but  here's  enough 
to  kape  the  pot  bilin'  for  wakes  to  come,  and  guv  us  a  good 
sup  o'  whiskey  into  the  bargain.  Here,  take  a  drap/'  she 
said,  pulling  out  a  black  bottle  and  holding  it  up  to  Mrs. 
Jocelyn.  ' '  What  yer  glowrin'  so  ghostlike  for  ?  Ah,  let  me 


45^  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

alone,  ye  ould  hag, ' '  she  said  angrily  to  the  red-faced  woman, 
who  seemed  in  great  trepidation,  and  tried  to  put  her  hand 
over  the  drunken  creature's  mouth.  "Who's  afeard  ? 
Money' 11  buy  judge  and  jury,  an'  if  this  woman  peaches  on 
us  I'll  bate  her  brains  out  wid  the  dead  babby. " 

Finding  that  words  were  of  no  avail,  and  that  she  could 
not  move  the  great  inert  mass  under  which  Mrs.  Jocelyn's 
chair  was  creaking,  the  neighbor  from  across  the  way  snatched 
the  money  and  retreated  to  her  room.  This  stratagem  had 
the  desired  effect,  for  the  woman  was  not  so  intoxicated  as  to 
lose  her  greed,  and  she  followed  as  hastily  as  her  unsteady 
steps  permitted.  A  moment  later  the  red-faced  woman 
dashed  in,  seized  the  dead  child  and  its  wrappings,  and  then 
shaking  her  huge  fist  in  Mrs.  Jocelyn's  face,  said,  "  If  yees 
ever  spakes  of  what  yer've  sane,  I'll  be  the  death  of  ye — by 
the  Vargin  I  will  ;  so  mum's  the  word,  or  it'll  be  worse  for 
ye." 

When  Mildred  returned  she  found  her  mother  nervously 
prostrated.  "  I've  had  a  bad  turn,"  was  her  only  explana 
tion.  Her  broken  spirit  was  terrified  by  her  awful  neigh 
bors,  and  not  for  the  world  would  she  add  another  feather's 
weight  to  the  burdens  under  which  her  family  faltered  by  in 
volving  them  in  a  prosecution  of  the  vile  impostor  who  had 
sickened  her  with  the  exposure  of  a  horrible  trade.  * 

"Mamma,"  cried  Mildred,  in  sharp  distress,  "we  must 
leave  this  place.  It's  killing  you." 

"  I  wish  we  could  leave  it,  dear,"  sighed  the  poor 
woman.  "  I  think  I'd  be  better  anywhere  else." 

"  We  shall  leave  it,"  said  the  girl  resolutely.  "  Let  the 
rent  go.  I  had  already  about  decided  upon  it,  and  now  I'll 

*  This  character  is  not  an  imaginary  one,  and,  on  ample  au 
thority,  I  was  told  of  an  instance  where  the  large  sum  of  fifty 
dollars  was  obtained  from  some  kindly  family  by  this  detestable 
method  of  imposition. 


NEIGHBORS.  457 

go  with  Mrs.  Wheaton  to-morrow  and  find  rooms  among 
more  respectable  people. ' ' 

The  events  of  the  evening  confirmed  her  purpose,  for  the 
young  roughs  that  rendezvoused  nightly  at  the  entrance  of 
the  long  passageway  determined  that  they  would  no  longer 
submit  to  the  "  uppish  airs  "  of  the  sisters,  but  "  tache  'em  " 
that  since  they  lived  in  the  same  house  they  were  no  better 
than  their  neighbors.  Therefore,  as  Belle  boldly  brushed  by 
them  as  usual  on  her  return  from  the  shop,  one  young 
fellow,  with  a  wink  to  his  comrades,  followed  her,  and  where 
the  passage  was  darkest  put  his  arm  around  her  waist  and 
pressed  upon  her  cheek  a  resounding  kiss.  In  response 
there  came  from  the  entrance  a  roar  of  jeering  laughter. 
But  the  young  ruffian  found  instantly  to  his  sorrow  that  he 
had  aroused  a  tigress.  Belle  was  strong  and  furious  from  the 
insult,  and  her  plump  hand  came  down  on  the  fellow's  nose 
with  a  force  that  caused  the  blood  to  flow  copiously.  After 
the  quick  impulse  of  anger  and  self-defence  passed  she  ran 
sobbing  like  a  child  to  Mildred,  and  declared  she  would  not 
stay  another  day  in  the  vile  den.  Mildred  was  white  with 
anger,  and  paced  the  room  excitedly  for  a  few  moments. 

"  Oh,  God,  that  we  had  a  father  !"  she  gasped.  "  There, 
Belle,  let  us  be  patient, ' '  she  continued  after  a  few  moments  ; 
' '  we  can' t  contend  with  such  wretches.  I  promise  you  that 
this  shall  be  your  last  day  in  this  place.  We  ought  to  have 
left  before. ' ' 

Then,  as  the  girls  grew  calmer,  they  resolved  not  to  tell 
either  their  father  or  Roger,  fearing  that  they  might  become 
embroiled  in  a  dangerous  and  disgraceful  quarrel  involving 
their  presence  in  a  police  court.  Mildred  had  given  her 
mother  a  sedative  to  quiet  her  trembling  nerves,  and  she  was 
sleeping  in  one  of  the  bedrooms,  and  so  happily  was  not 
aware  of  Belle's  encounter. 

Mr.  Jocelyn  soon  came  in,  and,  for  the   first  time  since 


458  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Mildred's  warning,  was  a  little  the  worse  for  liquor,  but  he 
had  the  self-control  to  keep  quiet,  and  after  a  few  mouthfuls 
of  supper  went  to  his  room  overcome  by  the  stupor  he  had 
sought.  After  the  children  were  sleeping  the  girls  gladly 
welcomed  Roger,  for  he  had  become  the  chief  source  of 
light  and  hope  in  their  saddened  lives.  And  he  did  brighten 
and  cheer  them  wonderfully,  for,  content  with  a  long  and 
prosperous  day's  work,  and  full  of  the  hopefulness  and  cour 
age  of  youth,  he  imparted  hope  and  fortitude  to  them  in 
spite  of  all  that  was  so  depressing. 

' '  Come,  girls, ' '  he  said  at  last,  ' '  you  need  some  oxygen. 
The  air  is  close  and  stifling  in  this  den  of  a  house,  and  out 
side  the  evening  is  clear  and  bracing.  Let's  have  a  stroll." 

' '  We  can' t  go  far, ' '  said  Mildred,  ' '  for  mamma  is  sleep 
ing,  and  I  would  not  have  her  wake  and  be  frightened  for 
anything." 

"  Well,  we'll  only  go  around  a  block  or  two.  You'll  feel 
the  stronger  for  it,  and  be  in  a  better  condition  to  move  to 
morrow,"  for  Mildred  had  told  him  of  her  purpose,  and  he 
had  promised  to  help  them  get  settled  on  the  following  even 
ing.  When  they  reached  the  end  of  the  dark  passageway 
they  feared  that  trouble  was  brewing,  for  a  score  of  dark, 
coarse  faces  lowered  at  them,  and  the  fellow  that  Belle  had 
punished  glared  at  her  above  his  bandaged  face.  Paying  no 
heed  to  them,  however,  they  took  a  brief,  quick  walk,  and 
returned  to  find  the  entrance  blocked  by  an  increasing  num 
ber  of  dangerous-looking  young  ruffians. 

"  Stand  aside,"  said  Roger  sternly. 

A  big  fellow  knocked  off  his  hat  in  response,  and  received 
instantly  a  blow  in  the  eye  which  would  have  felled  him  had 
he  not  been  sustained  by  the  crowd,  who  now  closed  on  the 
young  man. 

' '  Run  up  the  street  and  call  for  police, ' '  he  said  to  the 
girls,  but  they  were  snatched  back  and  held  by  some  of  the 


NEIGHBORS.  459 

gang,  and  hands  placed  over  their  mouths,  yet  not  before 
they  had  uttered  two  piercing  cries. 

Roger,  after  a  brief,  desperate  struggle,  got  his  back  to  the 
wall  and  struck  blows  that  were  like  those  of  a  sledge-ham 
mer.  He  was  dealing,  however,  with  some  fairly  trained 
pugilists,  and  was  suffering  severely,  when  a  policeman 
rushed  in,  clubbing  right  and  left.  The  gang  dispersed  in 
stantly,  but  two  were  captured.  The  girls,  half  fainting  from 
excitement  and  terror,  were  conducted  to  their  room  by 
Roger,  and  then  they  applied  palliatives  to  the  wounds  of 
their  knight,  with  a  solicitude  and  affection  which  made  the 
bruises  welcome  indeed  to  the  young  fellow.  They  were  in 
terror  at  the  idea  of  his  departure,  for  the  building  was  like 
a  seething  caldron.  He  reassured  them  by  promising  to  re 
main  until  all  was  quiet,  and  the  police  also  informed  them 
that  the  house  would  be  under  surveillance  until  morning. 

On  the  following  day,  with  Mrs.  Wheaton's  aid,  they 
found  rooms  elsewhere,  and  Roger,  after  appearing  as  wit 
ness  against  the  rowdies  that  had  been  captured,  and  inform 
ing  his  employers  of  what  had  occurred,  gave  the  remaining 
hours  to  the  efficient  aid  of  his  friends. 


WITHOUT  A  HOME, 


CHAPTER   XLI. 

GLINTS   OF   SUNSHINE. 

THEIR  new  rooms  at  first  promised  remarkably  well. 
They  were  on  the  ground-floor  of  a  large  tenement 
that  fronted  on  a  rather  narrow  street,  and  their  neighbors 
seemed  quiet,  well-disposed  people.  Mr.  Wentworth  soon 
called  and  congratulated  them  on  the  change.  Mrs.  Whea- 
ton  frequently  came  to  give  Mrs.  Jocelyn  a  "  'elping  'and," 
as  she  phrased  it,  but  her  eliminations  did  not  extend  to  her 
work,  which  was  rounded  out  with  the  completeness  of  hearty 
good  will.  Roger  rarely  missed  an  evening  without  giving 
an  hour  or  two  to  the  girls,  often  taking  them  out  to  walk, 
with  now  and  then  a  cheap  excursion  on  the  river  or  a  ram 
ble  in  Central  Park.  In  the  ktter  resort  they  usually  spent 
part  of  Sunday  afternoon,  going  thither  directly  from  the 
chapel.  Mildred's  morbidness  was  passing  away.  She  had 
again  taken  her  old  class,  and  her  face  was  gaining  a  serenity 
which  had  long  been  absent. 

One  of  the  great  wishes  of  her  heart  now  had  good  pros 
pect  of  being  fulfilled,  for  her  father  had  at  last  consented  to 
go  to  an  institution  wherein  he  could  receive  scientific  treat 
ment  suited  to  his  case.  The  outlook  was  growing  so  hope 
ful  that  even  Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  rallying  into  something  like 
hopefulness  and  courage,  and  her  health  was  slowly  improv 
ing.  She  was  one  whose  life  was  chiefly  sustained  by  her 
heart  and  the  well-being  of  those  she  loved. 

Belle  also  was  improving  greatly.  The  memorable  inter 
view  with  Roger,  already  described,  had  a  lasting  influence, 


GLINTS  OF  SUNSHINE.  461 

and  did  much  to  banish  the  giddiness  of  unthinking,  ignorant 
girlhood,  and  the  recklessness  arising  from  an  unhappy  life. 
Now  that  the  world  was  brightening  again,  she  brightened 
with  it.  Among  his  new  associates  Roger  found  two  or 
three  fine,  manly  fellows,  who  were  grateful  indeed  for  an  in 
troduction  to  the  handsome,  lively  girl,  and  scarcely  a  week 
passed  during  May  and  June  that  some  inexpensive  evening 
excursion  was  not  enjoyed,  and  thoroughly  enjoyed  too, 
even  by  Mildred.  Roger  was  ever  at  his  best  when  in  her 
society.  His  talk  was  bright  and  often  witty,  and  his  spirit  of 
fun  as  genuine  and  contagious  as  that  of  Belle  herself.  He 
was  now  sincerely  happy  in  the  consciousness  of  Mildred's 
perfect  trust  and  strong  affection,  believing  that  gradually, 
and  even  before  the  girl  was  aware  of  it,  she  would  learn  to 
give  more  than  friendship.  It  was  his  plan  to  make  himself 
essential  to  her  life,  indeed  a  part  of  it,  and  he  was  ap 
parently  succeeding.  Mildred  had  put  her  fate  into  his 
hands.  She  felt  that  she  owed  so  much  to  him  that  she  was 
ready  to  keep  her  promise  literally.  At  a/iy  time  for  months 
he  might  have  bound  her  to  him  by  promises  that  would 
never  have  been  broken  ;  he  knew  it,  and  she  was  aware  of 
his  knowledge,  but  when,  instead  of  taking  advantage  of  her 
gratitude,  he  avoided  all  sentiment,  and  treated  her  with  a 
cordial  frankness  as  if  she  were  in  truth  simply  the  friend  he 
had  asked  her  to  become,  all  of  her  old  constraint  in  his 
.  presence  was  unthought  of,  and  she  welcomed  the  glances  of 
his  dark,  intent  eyes,  which  interpreted  her  thoughts  even  be 
fore  they  were  spoken.  The  varying  expressions  of  his  face 
made  it  plain  enough  to  her  that  he  liked  and  appreciated 
her  thoughts,  and  that  his  admiration  and  affection  were  only 
strengthened  by  their  continued  companionship.  Moreover, 
she  was  well  content  with  what  she  regarded  as  her  own 
progress  toward  a  warmer  regard  for  him. 

One  moonlit  night  in  June  they  made  up  a  little  party 


462  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

for  an  excursion  on  a  steamer  plying  down  the  Bay.  Belle  had 
had  two  attendants,  and  would  have  been  just  as  well  pleased 
had  there  been  two  or  three  more.  As  she  once  asserted, 
she  could  have  kept  them  "all  jolly."  During  the  earlier 
hours  Roger  had  been  as  merry  and  full  of  nonsense  as 
Belle,  but  on  their  return  he  and  Mildred  had  taken  seats  a 
little  apart  from  the  others  and  drifted  into  some  talk  relating 
to  one  of  his  studies,  he  in  a  simple,  lucid  manner  explain 
ing  to  her  the  latest  theories  on  a  disputed  question.  She 
surprised  and  pleased  him  by  saying,  with  a  little  pathetic 
accent  in  her  voice, 

' '  Oh,  Roger,  you  are  leaving  me  far,  far  behind. ' ' 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Millie?" 

"  Why,  you  are  climbing  the  peaks  of  knowledge  at  a 
great  pace,  and  what's  to  become  of  poor  little  me,  thaf  have 
no  chance  to  climb  at  all  worth  naming  ?  You  won' t  want 
a  friend  who  doesn't  know  anything,  and  can't  understand 
what  you  are  thinking  about." 

"  I'll  wait  for  yoji,  Millie  ;  rest  assured  you  shall  never  be 
left  alone. ' ' 

"  No,  that  won't  do  at  all,"  she  replied,  and  she  was  in 
earnest  now.  "  There  is  one  thing  wherein  you  will  find 
me  as  obstinate  as  an  Atwood,  and  that  is  never  to  let  our 
friendship  retard  your  progress  or  render  your  success  doubt- 
iul,  now  that  you  have  struck  out  for  yourself.  Your  rela 
tives  think  that  I — that  we  shall  be  a  drag  upon  you  ;  I  have 
resolved  that  we  shall  not  be,  and  you  know  that  I  have  a 
little  will  of  my  own  as  well  as  yourself.  You  must  not 
wait  for  me  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  for  you  know  how 
very  proud  I  am,  and  all  my  pride  is  staked  on  your  suc 
cess.  It  ought  to  have  been  dead  long  ago,  but  it  seems  just 
as  strong  as  ever. ' ' 

"  And  I'm  proud  of  your  pride.  You  are  a  soldier,  Mil 
lie,  and  it  isn't  possible  for  you  to  say,  '  I  surrender.'  ' 


GLINTS  OF  SUNSHINE.  463 

: '  You  are  mistaken.  When  you  saved  me  from  prison  ; 
when  you  gave  nearly  all  you  had  that  papa  might  have  the 
chance  which  I  trust  will  restore  his  manhood,  I  surrendered, 
and  no  one  knew  it  better  than  you  did." 

' '  Pardon  me,  Millie  ;  the  gates  of  the  citadel  were  closed, 
and  ever  have  been.  Even  your  will  cannot  open  them — 
no,  not  even  your  extravagant  sense  of  gratitude  for  what  it 
would  be  my  happiness  to  do  in  any  case.  That  something 
which  was  once  prejudice,  dislike,  repulsion,  has  retreated 
into  the  depths  of  your  heart,  and  it  won' t  yield — at  least  it 
hasn'  t  yet.  But,  Millie,  I  shall  be  very  patient.  Just  as 
truly  as  if  you  were  the  daughter  of  a  millionnaire,  your 
heart  shall  guide  your  action. ' ' 

' '  You  are  a  royal  fellow,  Roger, ' '  she  faltered.  ' '  If  you 
were  not  so  genuinely  honest,  I  should  think  you  wonder 
fully  shrewd  in  your  policy. ' ' 

' '  Well,  perhaps  the  honest  course  is  always  the  shrewdest 
in  the  long  run,"  he  replied  laughingly,  and  with  a  deep 
gladness  in  his  tone,  for  her  words  gave  a  little  encourage 
ment.  "  But  your  charge  that  I  am  leaving  you  behind  as 
I  pursue  my  studies  has  a  grain  of  truth  in  it  as  far  as  mere 
book  learning  goes.  In  your  goodness,  Millie,  and  all  that 
is  most  admirable,  I  shall  always  follow  afar  off.  Since  I 
can't  wait  for  you,  as  you  say,  and  you  have  so  little  time  to 
read  and  study  yourself,  I  am  going  to  recite  my  lessons  to 
you — that  is,  some  of  them,  those  that  would  interest  you — 
and  by  telling  you  about  what  I  have  learned  I  shall  fix  it 
all  in  my  mind  more  thoroughly." 

Mildred  was  exceedingly  pleased  with  the  idea.  "  I  don't 
see  why  this  isn't  possible  to  some  extent,"  she  said  gladly, 
' '  and  I  can' t  tell  you  how  much  hope  and  comfort  it  gives 
me.  That  I've  had  so  little  time  to  read  and  cultivate  my 
mind  has  been  one  of  the  great  privations  of  our  poverty,  but 
if  you  will  patiently  try  to  make  me  understand  a  little  of 


464  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

what  you  are  studying,  I  won't  relapse  into  barbarism.  Oh, 
Roger,  how  good  you  are  to  me  !" 

' '  That  is  like  saying,  How  good  I  am  to  myself !  Let 
me  tell  you,  Millie,  in  all  sincerity,  that  this  plan  promises 
as  much  for  me  as  for  you.  Your  mind  is  so  quick,  and 
you  look  at  things  so  differently,  that  I  often  get  new  and 
better  ideas  of  the  subject  after  talking  it  over  with  you. 
The  country  boy  that  you  woke  up  last  summer  was  right  in 
believing  that  you  could  be  an  invaluable  friend,  for  I  can't 
tell  you  how  much  richer  life  has  become  to  me." 

"  Roger,  how  I  misunderstood  you  !  How  blind  and 
stupid  I  was  !  God  was  raising  up  for  me  the  best  friend  a 
girl  ever  had,  and  I  acted  so  shamefully  that  anybody  but 
you  would  have  been  driven  away." 

"  You  do  yourself  injustice,  and  I  wouldn't  let  any  one 
else  judge  you  so  harshly." 

After  reaching  her  room  that  night,  Mildred  thought,  "  I 
do  believe  mamma  was  right,  and  that  an  old-fashioned 
Southern  girl,  such  as  she  says  that  I  am,  can  learn  to  love  a 
second  time.  Roger  is  so  genuinely  good  and  strong  ! 
It  r'ests  me  to  be  with  him,  and  he  gives  some  of  his  own 
strength  and  courage.  To-night,  for  the  first  time  since  he 
told  me  everything  so  gently  and  honestly,  has  anything 
been  said  of  that  which  1  can  see  is  in  his  mind  all  the  time, 
and  I  brought  on  all  that  was  said  myself.  I  can  now  read 
his  thoughts  better  than  he  can  read  mine,  and  it  would  be 
mean  not  to  give  him  a  little  of  the  hope  and  encouragement 
that  he  so  richly  deserves.  It  troubles  me,  however,  that 
my  mind  and  heart  are  so  tranquil  when  I'm  with  him. 
That's  not  the  way  I  once  felt,"  she  sighed.  "  He  seems 
like  the  dearest  brother  a  girl  ever  had — no,  not  that  ex 
actly  ;  he  is  to  me  the  friend  he  calls  himself,  and  I'd  be 
content  to  have  things  go  on  this  way  as  long  as  we 
lived." 


GLINTS  OF  SUNSHINE.  465 

"  Millie,"  cried  Belle  roguishly,  "  what  did  Roger  say  to 
you  to  call  out  such  sweet  smiles  and  tender  sighs  ?" 

The  young  girl  started,  and  flushed  slightly.  "  We  were 
talking  about  astronomy, ' '  she  said  brusquely. 

"  Well,  I  should  think  so,  for  the  effects  in  your  appear 
ance  are  heavenly.  If  he  could  have  seen  you  as  you  have 
appeared  for  the  last  ten  minutes,  he  would  be  more  des 
perately  in  love  than  ever.  Oh,  Millie,  you  are  so  pretty  that 
I  am  half  in  love  with  you  myself. ' ' 

"  Nonsense  !  you  are  a  giddy  child.  Tell  me  about  your 
own  favorites,  and  which  of  them  you  like  best." 

"  I  like  them  all  best.  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  be 
such  a  little  goose  as  to  tie  myself  down  to  one  ?  These  are 
but  the  advance  guard  of  scores.  Still  I  shall  always  like 
these  ones  best  because  they  are  kind  to  me  now  while  I'm 
only  a  '  shop-lady. '  ' 

"  You  mustn't  flirt,  Belle." 

"I'm  not  flirting — only  having  a  good  time,  and  they 
know  it.  I'm  not  a  bit  sentimental — only  jolly,  you  know. 
When  the  right  time  comes,  and  I'  ve  had  my  fun,  I'  m  going 
to  take  my  pick  of  the  best." 

"  Well,  that's  sensible.  Belle,  darling,  are  not  Roger's 
friends  better  than  those  underhanded  fellows  who  could  not 
look  mamma  in  the  eyes  ?" 

' '  Oh,  Millie, ' '  said  the  impulsive  girl  with  a  rush  of  tears, 
"  don't  speak  of  those  horrid  days.  I  was  an  ignorant,  reck 
less  fool — I  was  almost  beside  myself  with  despair  and  un- 
happiness  ;  I  could  kiss  Roger's  hands  from  gratitude.  Look 
here,  Millie,  if  you  don't  marry  him  I  will,  for  there's  no 
one  that  can  compare  with  him." 

"  Come,  now,  don't  make  me  jealous." 

"  I  wish  I  could.  I've  a  great  mind  to  flirt  with  him  a 
little,  just  to  wake  up  your  old  stupid  heart.  Still  I  think 
you  are  coming  on  very  well.  Oh,  Millie,  how  I  could 


466  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

dance  at  your  wedding  !     Solid  as  I  am,    my  feet  would 
scarcely  touch  the  floor. ' ' 

Mildred  laughed,  and  said  softly,  "  It  would  be  a  pity  to 
deny  you  so  much  pleasure,  Belle. ' '  Then  she  added  res 
olutely,  '''  No  more  talk  about  weddings,  if  you  please.  For 
long,  long  years  Roger  must  give  his  whole  mind  to  his 
studies.  His  relatives  say  that  we  shall  hang  helplessly  upon 
him  and  spoil  his  life,  but  we'll  prove  them  mistaken,  Belle. 
I'd  work  my  fingers  off  to  give  him  the  chance  that  he'll 
make  so  much  of,  for  I'm  as  proud  of  him  as  you  are." 

"  That's  the  way  to  talk,"  exulted  Belle.  "  I  see  how  it's 
all  coming  out.  He'll  stand  up  head,  as  I  told  you,  and  I 
told  you,  too,  that  he'  d  win  you  in  spite  of  yourself.  Roger 
Atwood  does  all  he  undertakes — it's  his  way." 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  was  the  half-smiling,  half-sighing  an 
swer  ;  but  sanguine  Belle  had  no  doubt  concerning  the 
future,  and  soon  her  long  eyelashes  drooped  over  her  glow 
ing  cheeks  in  untroubled  sleep. 

"  Oh,  how  good  for  us  all  is  the  sunlight  of  a  little  happi 
ness  and  hope!"  Mildred  thought.  "Darling  mamma  is 
reviving,  Belle  is  blossoming  like  a  blush  rose,  and  I — well, 
thank  God  for  Roger  Atwood' s  friendship.  May  I  soon  be 
able  to  thank  Him  for  his  love." 

Ah,  Mildred  Jocelyn,  you  have  still  much  to  learn.  A 
second  love  can  grow  up  in  the  heart,  but  not  readily  in  one 
like  yours. 

Within  a  month  from  the  time  that  Mr.  Jocelyn  entered  a 
curative  institution,  he  returned  to  his  family  greatly  changed 
for  the  better.  His  manner  toward  his  family  was  full  of  re 
morseful  tenderness,  and  he  was  eager  to  retrieve  his  fortunes. 
They  welcomed  him  with  such  a  wealth  of  affection,  they 
cheered  and  sustained  him  in  so  many  delicate  and  sympa 
thetic  ways,  that  he  wondered  at  the  evil  spell  which  had 
bound  him  so  long  and  made  him  an  alien  among  those  so 


GLINTS  OF  SUNSHINE.  467 

lovable  and  so  dearly  beloved.  He  now  felt  sure  that  he 
would  devote  body  and  soul  to  their  welfare  for  the  rest  of 
his  days,  and  he  could  not  understand  why  or  how  it  was 
that  he  had  been  so  besotted.  The  intense  sufferings  during 
the  earlier  stage  of  his  treatment  at  the  institution  made  him 
shrink  with  horror  from  the  bare  thought  of  his  old  enslave 
ment,  and  during  the  first  weeks  after  his  return  he  did  not 
dream  it  was  possible  that  he  could  relapse,  although  he  had 
been  warned  of  his  danger.  His  former  morbid  craving  was 
often  fearfully  strong,  but  he  fought  it  with  a  vindictive  hatred, 
and  his  family,  in  their  deep  gladness  and  inexperience,  felt 
assured  that  husband  and  father  had  been  restored  to  them. 

It  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  thank  Roger  enough,  and  his 
eyes  grew  eloquent  with  gratitude  when  the  young  fellow's 
name  was  mentioned,  and  when  they  rested  on  his  bright, 
honest  face.  Mr.  Wentworth  went  out  among  his  business 
friends,  and  so  interested  one  of  them  that  a  position  was  in 
a  certain  sense  made  for  the  poor  man,  and  although  the 
salary  was  small  at  first,  the  prospect  for  its  increase  was  good 
if  he  would  maintain  his  abstinence  and  prove  that  he  had 
not  lost  his  old  fine  business  powers.  This  he  bade  so  fair 
to  do  that  hope  and  confidence  grew  stronger  every  day,  and 
they  felt  that  before  very  long  they  would  be  able  to  move 
into  more  commodious  quarters,  situated  in  a  better  part  of 
the  city,  for  by  reason  of  the  neglect  of  the  streets  and  sewer 
age  on  the  part  of  the  authorities,  the  locality  in  which  they 
now  were  was  found  to  be  both  very  disagreeable  and  un 
wholesome.  They  would  have  removed  at  once,  but  they 
were  eager  to  repay  Roger  the  money  he  had  loaned  them, 
although  he  protested  against  their  course.  Not  realizing 
their  danger,  and  in  the  impulse  of  their  pride  and  integrity, 
they  remained,  practising  the  closest  economy. 

Early  in  July,  Roger  obtained  a  vacation,  and  went  home 
on  a  visit,  proposing  to  harden  his  muscles  by  aiding  his 


468  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

father  through  the  harvest  season.  He  was  so  helpful  a«d 
so  kind  and  considerate  that  even  grim,  disappointed 
Mr.  Atwood  was  compelled  to  admit  that  his  boy  had  be 
come  a  man.  Mrs.  Atwood  tenderly  and  openly  exulted 
over  him,  and,  obeying  her  impulse,  she  wrote  a  friendly  let 
ter  to  Mildred,  which  made  the  young  girl  very  happy. 

Susan  became  more  than  reconciled  to  Roger's  course,  for 
he  promised  that  some  day  she  should  often  come  to  the  city 
and  have  splendid  times.  Clara  Bute  had  become  the  happy 
wife  of  a  well-to-do  farmer,  and  she  sent  an  urgent  request 
to  Belle  and  Mildred  to  visit  her.  The  latter  would  not  leave 
her  parents,  but  Belle  accepted  gladly,  and  the  gay,  frolic 
some  girl  left  more  than  one  mild  heartache  among  the  rural 
beaux  that  vied  with  each  other  in  their  attentions. 


HOPES  GIVEN  AND  SLAIN.  469 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

HOPES  GIVEN  AND   SLAIN. 

THE  skies  seemed  serene  and  bright,  with  promise  to  all 
for  many  happy  days,  but  clouds  were  gathering  be 
low  the  horizon,  and,  most  unexpectedly  to  him,  the  first  bolt 
fell  upon  Roger.  A  day  or  two  before  his  return  to  the  city 
he  found  at  the  village  office  a  letter  with  a  foreign  post-mark, 
addressed,  in  his  care,  to  Miss  Mildred  Jocelyn.  He  knew 
the  handwriting  instantly,  and  he  looked  at  the  missive  as  if 
it  contained  his  death-warrant.  It  was  from  Vinton  Arnold. 
As  he  rode  away  he  was  desperately  tempted  to  destroy  the 
letter,  and  never  breathe  a  word  of  its  existence.  He  hoped 
and  half  believed  that  Mildred  was  learning  to  love  him,  and 
he  was  sure  that  if  Arnold  did  not  appear  he  would  win  all 
that  he  craved.  The  letter,  which  he  had  touched  as  if  it 
contained  nitro-glycerine,  might  slay  every  hope.  Indeed  he 
believed  that  it  would,  for  he  understood  Mildred  better  than 
she  understood  herself.  She  believed  that  Arnold  had  given 
her  up.  Her  heart  had  become  benumbed  with  its  own 
pain,  and  was  sleeping  after  its  long,  weary  waiting.  He  was 
sure,  however,  that  if  not  interfered  with  he  could  awaken  it 
at  last  to  content  and  happiness.  This  letter,  however, 
might  be  the  torch  which  would  kindle  the  old  love  with  ten 
fold  intensity.  Long  hours  he  fought  his  temptation  like  a 
gladiator,  for  fine  as  had  been  Mildred's  influence  over  him, 
he  was  still  intensely  human.  At  last  he  gained  the  victory, 
and  went  home  quiet,  but  more  exhausted  than  he  had  ever 


47°  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

been  from  a  long  hot  day's  toil  in  the  harvest-field.  He  had 
resolved  to  keep  absolute  faith  with  Mildred,  and  having  once 
reached  a  decision  he  was  not  one  to  waver. 

As  his  mother  kissed  him  good-by  she  held  him  off  a 
moment,  then  whispered,  "  Roger,  Miss  Jocelyn  has  given 
you  something  better  than  all  your  uncle's  money.  I  am 
content  that  it  should  be  as  it  is. ' ' 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  of  his  arrival  in  the  city  he 
went  to  meet  his  fate.  Mrs.  Jocelyn  greeted  him  like  the 
mother  he  had  just  left,  and  Mildred's  glad  welcome  made 
him  groan  inwardly.  Never  before  had  she  appeared  so 
beautiful  to  him — never  had  her  greeting  been  so  tinged 
with  her  deepening  regard.  And  yet  she  looked  inquiringly 
at  him  from  time  to  time,  for  he  could  not  wholly  disguise 
the  fear  that  chilled  his  heart. 

"  Belle  had  a  perfectly  lovely  time  in  the  country,"  said 
Mrs.  Jocelyn.  "  She  has  told  us  all  about  your  people,  and 
what  a  farmer  you  became.  She  said  everybody  was  proud 
of  you  up  at  Forestville,  and  well  they  might  be,  although 
they  don't  know  what  we  do.  Oh,  Roger,  my  dear  boy,  it 
does  my  heart  good  to  see  you  again.  We  have  all  missed 
you  so  much.  Oh,  you' 11  never  know — you  never  can  know. 
Good-by  now,  for  a  little  while.  I  promised  Mrs.  Wheaton 
that  I'd  bring  the  children  over  and  spend  the  afternoon  with 
her.  She  is  going  to  show  me  about  cutting  some  little 
clothes  for  Fred.  What  a  dear  kind  soul  she  is,  with  all  her 
queer  talk.  God  bless  you,  my  boy.  You  bring  hope  and 
happiness  back  with  you." 

But  the  poor  fellow  was  so  conscious  of  his  own  coming 
trouble  that  tears  came  into  his  eyes,  and  after  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
had  gone  he  looked  at  Mildred  in  a  way  that  made  her  ask, 
gently  and  anxiously, 

"What  is  it,  Roger?" 

After  a  moment's  hesitation  he  said  grimly,  "  Millie,  it's 


HOPES  GIVEN  AND  SLAIN.  47 1 

rough  on  a  fellow  when  he  must  be  his  own  executioner. 
There,  take  it.  It's  the  heaviest  load  I  ever  carried  in  my 
fife, ' '  and  he  threw  the  letter  into  her  lap. 

After  a  moment's  glance  she  trembled  violently,  and  be-= 
came  pale  and  red  by  turns,  then  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

' '  I  knew  it  would  be  so, ' '  he  said  doggedly.  ' '  I  knew 
what  was  the  matter  all  along." 

She  sprang  up,  letting  the  letter  drop  on  the  floor,  and 
clung  to  him.  "  Roger,"  she  cried,  "  I  won't  read  the  let 
ter.  I  won't  touch  it.  No  one  shall  come  between  us — no 
one  has  the  right.  Oh,  it  would  be  shameful  after  all — " 

"  Millie,"  he  said  almost  sternly,  replacing  her  in  her 
chair,  "  the  writer  of  that  letter  has  the  right  to  come  be 
tween  us — he  is  between  us,  and  there  is  no  use  in  disguis 
ing  the  truth.  Come,  Millie,  I  came  here  to  play  the  man, 
and  you  must  not  make  it  too  hard  for  me.  Read  your 
letter." 

"  I  can't,"  she  said,  again  burying  her  burning  face  in 
her  hands,  and  giving  way  to  a  sudden  passion  of  tears. 

"  No,  not  while  I'm  here,  of  course.  And  yet  I'd  like  to 
know  my  fate,  for  the  suspense  is  a  little  too  much.  I  hope 
he's  written  to  tell  you  that  he  has  married  the  daughter  of  the 
Great  Mogul,  or  some  other  rich  nonentity, ' '  he  added,  trying 
to  meet  his  disappointment  with  a  faint  attempt  at  humor ; 
"  but  I'm  a  fool  to  hope  anything,  Good-by,  and  read 
your  letter  in  peace.  I  ought  to  have  left  it  and  gone  away 
at  once,  but,  confound  it !  I  couldn'  t.  A  drowning  man 
will  blindly  catch  at  a  straw." 

She  looked  at  him,  and  saw  that  his  face  was  white  with 
pain  and  fear. 

"  Roger,"  she  said  resolute^,  "  I'll  burn  that  letter  with 
out  opening  it  if  you  say  so.  I'll  do  anything  you  ask." 

He  paced  the  room  excitedly  with  clenched  hands  for  a 


47 2  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

few  moments,  but  at  last  turned  toward  her  and  said  quietly, 
"  Will  you  do  what  I  ask  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  indeed." 

1 '  Then  read  your  letter. ' ' 

She  looked  at  him  irresolutely  a  moment,  then  made  a 
little  gesture  of  protest  and  snatched  up  the  missive  almost 
vindictively. 

After  reading  a  few  lines  her  face  softened,  and  she  said, 
in  accents  of  regret  which  she  was  too  much  off  her  guard  to 
disguise,  ' '  Oh,  he  never  received  my  answer  last  summer. ' ' 

' '  Of  course  not, ' '  growled  Roger.  ' '  You  deserved  that, 
for  you  gave  your  note  to  that  old  blunderbuss  Jotham,  when 
I  would  have  carried  it  safely. ' ' 

"  Oh,  Roger,  I  can't  go  on  with  this ;  I  am  wronging  you 
too  shamefully." 

'  You  would  wrong  me  far  more  if  you  were  not  honest 
with  me  at  this  time, ' '  he  said  almost  harshly. 

His  words  quieted  and  chilled  her  a  little,  and  she  replied 
sadly,  ' '  You  are  right,  Roger.  You  don' t  want,  nor  should 
I  mock  you  with  the  mere  semblance  of  what  you  give." 

' '  Read  the  letter, ' '  was  his  impatient  reply,  "  or  I  shall 
go  at  once. ' ' 

She  now  turned  to  it  resolutely,  proposing  to  read  it  with 
an  impassive  face,  but,  in  spite  of  herself,  he  saw  that  every 
word  was  like  an  electric  touch  upon  her  heart.  As  she 
finished,  the  letter  dropped  from  her  hands,  and  she  began 
crying  so  bitterly  that  he  was  disarmed,  and  forgot  himself  in 
her  behalf.  "  Don't  cry  so,  Millie,"  he  pleaded.  "  I  can't 
stand  it.  Come,  now  ;  I  fought  this  battle  out  once  before, 
and  didn't  think  I  could  be  so  accursedly  weak  again." 

"  Roger,  read  that  letter." 

"  No,"  he  answered  savagely  ;  "  I  hate  him — I  could  an 
nihilate  him  ;  but  he  shall  never  charge  me  with  anything  un 
derhanded.  That  letter  was  meant  for  your  eyes  only. 


HOPES  GIVEN  AND  SLAIN.  473 

Since  it  must  be,  God  grant  he  proves  worthy ;  but  his  words 
would  sting  me  like  adders." 

She  sprang  to  him,  and,  burying  her  face  upon  his  shoul 
der,  sobbed,  "  Oh,  Roger,  I  can't  endure  this.  It's  worse 
than  anything  I'  ve  suffered  yet. ' ' 

"  Oh,  whata  brute  I  am  !"  he  groaned.  "  His  letter  ought 
to  have  brought  you  happiness,  but  your  kind  heart  is  breaking 
over  my  trouble,  for  I've  acted  like  a  passionate  boy.  Mil 
lie,  dear  Millie,  I  will  be  a  brave,  true  man,  and,  as  I  prom 
ised  you,  your  heart  shall  decide  all.  From  this  time  forth 
I  am  your  brother,  your  protector,  and  I  shall  protect  you 
against  yourself  as  truly  as  against  others.  You  are  not  to 
blame  in  the  least.  How  could  I  blame  you  for  a  love  that 
took  possession  of  your  heart  before  you  knew  of  my  exist 
ence,  and  why  has  not  Millie  Jocelyn  as  good  a  right  to  fol 
low  her  heart  as  any  other  girl  in  the  land  ?  And  you  shall 
follow  it.  It  would  be  dastardly  meanness  in  me  to  take 
advantage  of  your  gratitude.  Come,  now,  wipe  your  eyes, 
and  give  a  sister's  kiss  before  I  go.  It's  all  right." 

She  yielded  passively,  for  she  was  weak,  nerveless,  and 
exhausted.  He  picked  up  the  open  letter,  replaced  it  within 
the  envelope,  and  put  it  in  her  hand.  "  It's  yours,"  he 
said,  "  by  the  divine  right  of  your  love.  When  I  come  this 
evening,  don't  let  me  see  a  trace  of  grief.  I  won't  mope  and 
be  lackadaisical,  I  promise,"  and  smilingly  he  kissed  her 
good-by. 

She  sat  for  an  hour  almost  without  moving,  and  then 
mechanically  put  the  letter  away  and  went  on  with  her  work. 
She  felt  herself  unequal  to  any  more  emotion  at  that  time, 
and  after  thinking  the  affair  all  over,  determined  to  keep  it 
to  herself,  for  the  present  at  least.  She  knew  well  how  bitterly 
her  father,  mother,  and  Belle  would  resent  the  letter,  and  how 
greatly  it  would  disquiet  them  if  they  knew  that  her  old  love 
was  not  dead,  and  seemingly  could  not  and  would  not  die. 


474  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

With  the  whole  force  of  her  resolute  will  she  sought  to  gain 
an  outward  quietude,  and  succeeded  so  well  that  the  family 
did  not  suspect  anything.  She  both  longed  for  and  dreaded 
Roger' s  appearance,  and  when  he  came  she  looked  at  him  so 
kindly,  so  remorsefully,  that  she  taxed  his  strength  to  the 
utmost ;  but  he  held  his  own  manfully,  and  she  was  com 
pelled  to  admit  that  he  had  never  appeared  so  gay  or  so  brill 
iant  before.  For  an  hour  he  and  Belle  kept  them  all  laugh 
ing  over  their  bright  nonsense,  and  then  suddenly  he  said, 
"  Vacation' s  over ;  I  must  begin  work  to-morrow, "  and  in 
a  moment  he  was  gone. 

' '  Millie, ' '  cried  Belle,  ' '  you  ought  to  thank  your  stars, 
for  you  have  the  finest  fellow  in  the  city,"  and  they  all  smiled 
at  her  so  brightly  that  she  fled  to  her  room.  There  Belle 
found  her  a  little  later  with  red  eyes,  and  she  remarked 
bluntly,  "Well,  you  are  a  queer  girl.  I  suppose  you  are 
crying  for  joy,  but  that  isn't  my  way." 

After  her  sister  was  asleep  Mildred  read  and  re-read 
Arnold's  letter.  At  first  she  sighed  and  cried  over  it,  and 
then  lapsed  into  a  long,  deep  reverie.  ' '  Hard  as  it  is  for 
Roger,"  she  thought,  "  he  is  right — I  am  not  to  blame.  I 
learned  to  love  Vinton  Arnold,  and  permitted  him  to  love 
me,  before  I  had  ever  seen  Roger.  I  should  have  a  heart  of 
stone  could  I  resist  his  appeal  in  this  letter.  Here  he  says  : 
'  You  did  not  answer  my  note  last  summer — I  fear  you  have 
cast  me  off.  I  cannot  blame  you.  After  insults  from  my 
mother  and  my  own  pitiful  exhibitions  of  weakness,  my 
reason  tells  me  that  you  have  banished  all  thoughts  of  me  in 
anger  and  disgust.  But,  Millie,  my  heart  will  not  listen  to 
reason,  and  cries  out  for  you  night  and  day.  My  life  has 
become  an  intolerable  burden  to  me,  and  never  in  all  the 
past  has  there  been  a  more  unhappy  exile  than  I.  The 
days  pass  like  years,  and  the  nights  are  worse.  I  am  dragged 
here  and  there  for  the  benefit  of  my  health — what  a  miserable 


HOPES  GIVEN  AND  SLAIN.  475 

farce  it  is  !  For  half  the  money  I  am  spending  here  I  could 
live  happily  with  you,  and,  sustained  by  your  love  and  sym 
pathy,  I  might  do  something  befitting  my  man' s  estate.  One 
day,  when  I  said  as  much  to  my  mother,  her  face  grew  cold 
and  stern,  and  she  replied  that  my  views  of  life  were  as  absurd 
as  those  of  a  child  !  I  often  wish  I  were  dead,  and  were  it 
not  for  the  thought  of  you  I  half  fear  that  I  might  be  tempted 
to  end  my  wretched  existence.  Of  course  my  health  suffers 
from  this  constant  unhappiness,  repression,  and  humiliation. 
The  rumor  has  reached  me  that  your  father  has  become  very 
poor,  and  that  he  is  in  ill  health.  The  little  blood  I  have 
left  crimsons  my  face  with  shame  that  I  am  not  at  your  side 
to  help  and  cheer  you.  But  I  fear  I  should  be  a  burden  to 
you,  as  I  am  to  every  one  else.  My  fainting  turns — one  of 
which  you  saw — are  becoming  more  frequent  I've  no  hope 
nor  courage  to  try  to  get  well — I  am  just  sinking  under  the 
burden  of  my  unhappy,  unmanly  life,  and  my  best  hope  may 
soon  be  to  become  unconscious  and  remain  so  forever.  And 
yet  I  fully  believe  that  one  kind  word  from  you  would  in 
spire  me  with  the  wish,  the  power  to  live.  My  mother  is 
blind  to  everything  except  her  worldly  maxims  of  life.  She 
means  to  do  her  duty  by  me,  and  is  conscientious  in  her  way, 
but  she  is  killing  me  by  slow  torture.  If  you  would  give  me 
a  little  hope,  if  you  would  wait — oh,  pardon  the  selfishness 
of  my  request,  the  pitiable  weakness  displayed  in  this  appeal ! 
Yet,  how  can  I  help  it  ?  Who  can  sink  into  absolute  despair 
without  some  faint  struggle — some  effort  to  escape.  I  have 
had  the  happiness  of  heaven  in  your  presence,  and  now  I  am 
as  miserable  as  a  lost  soul.  You  have  only  to  say  that  there 
is  no  hope,  and  I  will  soon  cease  to  trouble  you  or  any  one 
much  longer. ' 

"  How  can  I  tell  him  there  is  no  hope  ?"  she  murmured. 
"  It  would  be  murder — it  would  be  killing  soul  and  body. 
What' s  more,  I  love  him — God  knows  I  love  him.  My  heart 


47 6  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

just  yearns  for  him  in  boundless  pity  and  sympathy,  and  I 
feel  almost  as  if  he  were  my  crippled,  helpless  child  as  well  as 
lover.  It  would  be  cruel,  selfish,  and  unwomanly  to  desert 
him  because  of  his  misfortune.  I  haven't  the  heart  to  do  it. 
His  weakness  and  suffering  bind  me  to  him.  His  appeal  to 
me  is  like  the  cry  of  the  helpless  to  God,  and  how  can  I  de 
stroy  his  one  hope,  his  one  chance  ?  He  needs  me  more 
than  does  Roger,  who  is  strong,  masterful,  and  has  a  grand 
career  before  him.  In  his  varied  activities,  in  the  realiza 
tion  of  his  ambitious  hopes,  he  will  overcome  his  present 
feelings,  and  become  my  brother  in  very  truth.  He  will 
marry  some  rich,  splendid  girl  like  Miss  Wetheridge  by  and 
by,  and  I  shall  be  content  in  lowly,  quiet  ministry  to  one 
whose  life  and  all  God  has  put  into  my  hands.  His  parents 
treat  Vinton  as  if  he  were  a  child  ;  but  he  has  reached  the  age 
when  he  has  the  right  to  choose  for  himself,  and,  if  the  worst 
comes  to  the  worst,  I  could  support  him  myself.  Feeling  as 
I  do  now,  and  as  I  ever  shall,  now  that  my  heart  has  been  re 
vealed  to  me,  I  could  not  marry  Roger.  It  would  be  wrong 
ing  him  and  perjuring  myself.  He  is  too  grand,  too  strong 
a  man  not  to  see  the  facts  in  their  true  light,  and  he  will  still 
remain  the  best  friend  a  woman  ever  had. ' ' 

Then,  with  a  furtive  look  at  Belle  to  see  that  she  was 
sleeping  soundly,  she  wrote  :  "  DEAR  VINTON  :  My  heart 
would  indeed  be  callous  and  unwomanly  did  it  not  respond 
to  your  letter,  over  which  I  have  shed  many  tears.  Take  all 
the  hope  you  can  from  the  truth  that  I  love  you,  and  can 
never  cease  to  love  you.  You  do  yourself  injustice.  Your 
weakness  and  ill  health  are  misfortunes  for  which  you  are  not 
responsible.  So  far  from  inspiring  disgust,  they  awaken  my 
sympathy  and  deepen  my  affection.  You  do  not  know  a 
woman's  heart — at  least  you  do  not  know  mine.  In  your 
constant  love,  your  contempt  for  heartless,  fashionable  life, 
and  your  wish  to  do  a  man's  part  in  the  world,  you  are  manly 


HOPES  GIVEN  AND  SLAIN.  477 

You  are  right  also  in  believing  that  if  you  lived  in  an  at 
mosphere  of  respect  and  affection  you  would  so  change  for 
the  better  that  you  would  not  recognize  yourself.  For  my 
sake  as  well  as  your  own,  try  to  rally,  and  make  the  most  of 
your  sojourn  abroad.  Fix  your  mind  steadily  on  some  pur 
suits  or  studies  that  will  be  of  use  to  you  in  the  future.  Do 
not  fear  ;  I  shall  wait  It  is  not  in  my  nature  to  forget  or 
change."  And  with  some  reference  to  their  misfortunes,  a 
repetition  of  her  note  which  Jotham  had  lost,  and  further  re 
assuring  words,  she  closed  her  letter. 

"  I  am  right,"  she  said  ;  "  even  Roger  will  say  I  am  doin% 
right.  I  could  not  do  otherwise. ' ' 

Having  made  a  copy  of  the  letter  that  she  might  show  it 
to  Roger,  she  at  last  slept,  in  the  small  hours  of  the  night. 
As  early  as  possible  on  the  following  day  she  mailed  the  let 
ter,  with  a  prayer  that  it  might  not  be  too  late. 

A  day  or  two  later  she  sought  a  private  interview  with  her 
friend,  and  whispered,  ' '  Roger,  dear  Roger,  if  you  do  not 
fail  me  now  you  will  prove  yourself  the  best  and  bravest  man 
in  the  world.  I  am  going  to  repose  a  trust  in  you  that  I 
cannot  share  at  present  with  any  one  else — not  even  my 
mother.  It  would  only  make  her  unhappy  now  that  she  is 
reviving  in  our  brighter  days.  It  might  have  a  bad  influ 
ence  on  papa,  and  it  is  our  duty  to  shield  him  in  every 
way. ' ' 

She  told  him  everything,  made  him  read  the  copy  of  her 
letter  to  Arnold.  "You  are  strong,  Roger,"  she  said  in 
conclusion,  ' '  and  it  would  kill  him,  and — and  I  love  him. 
You  know  now  how  it  has  all  come  about,  and  it  does  not 
seem  in  my  nature  to  change.  I  have  given  you  all  I  can — 
my  absolute  trust  and  confidence.  I've  shown  you  my 
whole  heart.  Roger,  you  won't  fail  me.  I  love  you  so 
dearly,  I  feel  so  deeply  for  you,  I  am  so  very  grateful,  that  I 
believe  it  would  kill  me  if  this  should  harm  you. ' ' 


478  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

He  did  not  fail  her,  but  even  she  never  guessed  the  effort 
he  made. 

"  It's  all  right,  Millie,"  he  said  with  a  deep  breath,  "  and 
I'll  be  a  jolly  bachelor  for  you  all  my  life." 

1 '  You  must  not  say  that, ' '  she  protested.  ' '  One  of  these 
days  I'  11  pick  you  out  a  far  better  wife  than  I  could  ever  be. ' ' 

"  No,"  he  replied  decisively,  "  that's  the  one  thing  I 
won' t  do  for  you,  if  you  picked  out  twenty  score. ' ' 

He  tried  to  be  brave — he  was  brave  ;  but  for  weeks  there 
after  traces  of  suffering  on  his  face  cut  her  to  the  heart,  and 
she  suffered  with  him  as  only  a  nature  like  hers  was  capable  of 
doing.  Events  were  near  which  would  tax  his  friendship  to 
the  utmost 

August  was  passing  with  its  intense  heat.  The  streets  of  the 
locality  wherein  the  Jocelyns  lived  were  shamefully  neglected, 
and  the  sewerage  was  bad.  Mr.  Jocelyn  was  one  of  the  first 
to  surfer,  and  one  day  he  was  so  ill  from  malarial  neuralgia 
that  he  faltered  in  the  duties  of  his  business. 

4 '  I  can' t  afford  to  be  ill, ' '  he  said  to  himself.  ' '  A  slight 
dose  of  morphia  will  carry  me  through  the  day  ;  surely  I've 
strength  of  mind  sufficient  to  take  it  once  or  twice  as  a  med 
icine,  and  then  plenty  of  quinine  will  ward  off  a  fever,  and  I 
can  go  on  with  my  work  without  any  break  or  loss  ;  mean 
while  I'll  look  for  rooms  in  a  healthier  locality." 

His  conscience  smote  him,  warned  him,  and  yet  it  did 
not  seem  possible  that  he  could  not  take  a  little  as  a  remedy, 
as  did  other  people.  With  the  fatuity  of  a  self-indulgent 
nature  he  remembered  its  immediate  relief  from  pain,  and  for 
got  the  anguish  it  had  caused.  He  no  more  proposed  to  re 
new  the  habit  than  to  destroy  his  life — he  only  proposed  to 
tide  himself  over  an  emergency. 

The  drug  was  taken,  and  to  his  horror  he  found  that  it  was 
the  same  as  if  he  had  kindled  a  conflagration  among  combus 
tibles  ready  for  the  match.  His  old  craving  asserted  itself 


HOPES  GIVEN  AND  SLAIN.  479 

with  all  its  former  force.  His  will  was  like  a  straw  in  the 
grasp  of  a  giant.  He  writhed,  and  anathematized  himself,  but 
soon,  with  the  inevitableness  of  gravitation,  went  to  another 
drug  store  and  was  again  enchained.* 

For  a  few  days  Mr.  Jocelyn  tried  to  conceal  his  condition 
from  his  family,  but  their  eyes  were  open  now,  and  they 
watched  him  at  first  with  alarm,  then  with  terror.  They  plead 
ed  with  him  ;  his  wife  went  down  on  her  knees  before  him  ; 
but,  with  curses  on  himself,  he  broke  away  and  rushed  forth, 
driven  out  into  the  wilderness  of  a  homeless  life  like  a  man 
possessed  with  a  demon.  In  his  intolerable  shame  and  re 
morse  he  wrote  that  he  would  not  return  until  he  had  regained 
his  manhood.  Alas  !  that  day  would  never  come. 

*  It  is  a  sad  fact  that  more  than  half  of  those  addicted  to  the 
opium  habit  relapse.  The  causes  are  varied,  but  the  one  given  is 
the  most  common :  it  is  taken  to  bridge  over  some  emergency  or 
to  give  relief  from  physical  pain  or  mental  distress.  The  infatu* 
ated  victim  says,  "  I  will  take  it  just  this  once,"  and  then  he  goes 
on  taking  it  until  it  destroys  him.  I  have  talked  with  several  who 
have  given  way  for  the  second  and  third  time,  and  with  one  physician 
who  has  relapsed  five  times.  They  each  had  a  somewhat  different 
story  to  tell,  but  the  dire  results  were  in  all  cases  the  same.  After 
one  indulgence,  the  old  fierce  craving,  the  old  fatal  habit, was  again 
fixed,  with  more  than  its  former  intensity  and  binding  power. 


480  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 


CHAPTER   XLIII. 

WAS    BELLE     MURDERED? 

MRS.  WHEATON,  Mr.  Wentworth,  and  Roger  did 
what  they  could  for  the  afflicted  family,  and 
Roger  spent  the  greater  part  of  several  nights  in  a  vain 
search  for  the  absent  man,  but  he  had  hidden  himself  too 
securely,  and  was  drowning  reason,  conscience,  his  entire 
manhood,  in  one  long  debauch.  The  young  man  grew  more 
haggard  than  ever  in  his  deep  sympathy  for  his  friends,  for 
they  clung  to  him  with  the  feeling  that  he  only  could  help 
them  effectually.  He  begged  them  to  move  elsewhere, 
since  the  odors  of  the  place  were  often  sickening,  but  they 
all  said  No,  for  the  husband  and  father  might  return,  and 
this  no;*  was  ii.eir  one  hope  concerning  him. 

In  the  second  fall  of  her  husband  Mrs.  Jocelyn  seemed  to 
have  received  her  death-wound,  for  she  failed  visibly  every 
day. 

One  night  Belle  was  taken  with  a  severe  chill,  and  then 
fever  and  delirium  followed.  When  Roger  came  the  ensu 
ing  evening,  Mildred  sobbed  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Oh,  Roger,  my  heart  is  paralyzed  with  dread.  The  skies 
you  were  making  so  bright  for  us  have  become  black  with 
ruin.  You  are  the  only  one  who  brings  me  any  hope  or 
comfort.  Come  with  me.  Look  at  Belle  there.  She 
doesn't  know  any  of  us.  For  the  last  hour  her  mind  has 
wandered.  Half  the  time  she  is  thanking  you  for  all  that 
you  have  done  for  us  ;  then  she  calls  for  papa,  or  is  away  in 
the  country.  The  doctor  has  been  here,  and  he  looked  very 


WAS  BELLE  MURDERED?  481 

grave.  He  says  it's  all  due  to  the  bad  sanitary  condition  of 
this  part  of  the  city,  and  that  there  are  other  cases  just  like 
it.  and  that  they  are  hard  to  manage.  Why  didn'  t  we  move 
before  ?  Oh,  oh,  oh  !"  and  she  cried  as  if  her  heart  would 
break. 

"Don't  grieve  so,  Millie,"  Roger  faltered.  "I  nevei 
could  stand  it  to  see  tears  in  your  eyes.  Belle  is  young  and 
vigorous  ;  she'll  pull  through." 

"  I  hope  so.  Oh,  what  should  we  do  if  she  should — 
But  the  doctor  says  the  fever  takes  a  stronger  hold  on  persons 
of  full  habit  like  Belle,  and  now  that  I'  ve  made  inquiries  I 
find  that  it  has  been  fatal  in  several  instances.  We  have  been 
so  troubled  about  papa  that  we  thought  of  nothing  else,  and 
did  not  realize  our  danger.  There  are  two  cases  like  Belle's 
across  the  way,  and  one  in  this  house,  and  none  of  them  are 
expected  to  live." 

"  Millie,"  said  Roger  resolutely,  "  I  won't  even  entertain 
the  thought  of  Belle's  dying.  I'm  going  to  stay  with  you 
every  night  until  she  is  out  of  danger.  I  can  doze  here  in 
this  chair,  and  I  should  be  sleepless  with  anxiety  anywhere 
else.  You  must  let  me  become  a  brother  now  in  very  truth. ' ' 

"  No,  Roger,  we  can't  permit  it.  You  might  catch  the 
fever. ' ' 

' '  Millie,  I  will  stay.  Do  you  think  I  could  leave  you  to 
meet  this  trouble  alone  ?  I  can  relieve  you  in  many  ways, 
and  give  you  and  your  mother  a  chance  for  a  little  rest. 
Besides,  what  is  the  fever  to  me  ?"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of 
recklessness  which  she  understood  too  well. 

"Roger,"  she  said  gravely,  "  think  what  your  life  and 
health  are  to  me.  If  you  should  fail  me  I  should  despair. 

"  I  won't  fail  you,"  he  replied,  with  a  little  confident  nod. 
"  You  will  always  find  me  on  hand  like  a  good-natured 
dragon  whenever  you  are  in  trouble.  The  first  thing  to  do 
is  to  send  these  children  to  the  country,  and  out  of  this 


482  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

poisoned  air,"  and  he  sat  down  at  once  and  wrote  to  hia 
mother  and  Clara  Wilson,  formerly  Clara  Bute.  Then, 
true  to  his  word,  he  watched  with  Mildred  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
every  night  Frequently  his  hand  upon  the  brow  of  the 
delirious  girl  would  quiet  her  when  nothing  else  could,  and 
Mildred  often  saw  his  tears  falling  fast  on  the  unconscious  face. 

Mrs.  Wilson  answered  his  letter  in  person.  "  I  couldn't 
wait  a  minute, ' '  she  said.  ' '  I  went  right  over  to  Mrs.  At- 
wood's  and  told  her  that  no  one  could  have  the  children  but 
me,  and  my  husband  says  they  can  stay  until  you  want  them 
back.  He  is  so  good  to  me  !  Dear  little  Belle  !"  she 
sobbed,  bending  over  the  sufferer,  "  to  think  that  I  once  so 
misjudged  you  !  A  better-hearted  girl  never  breathed.  As 
soon  as  she's  able  to  be  moved  you  must  bring  her  right  to 
me,  and  I'll  take  care  of  her  till  she's  her  old  rosy,  beautiful 
seli  No,  I'll  come  for  her.  I  wish  I  could  take  her  in  my 
arms  and  carry  her  home  now." 

' '  She  often  speaks  of  you, ' '  faltered  Mildred.  ' '  Indeed 
she  seems  to  be  living  all  her  old  life  over  again. ' ' 

The  doctor  looked  graver  every  day,  and  at  last  held  out 
no  hope.  Late  one  night  they  saw  that  the  crisis  was  near. 
Belle  was  almost  inanimate  from  weakness,  and  Mrs.  Joce 
lyn,  Mildred,  and  Roger  sat  beside  her  in  the  large  living- 
room,  into  which  they  had  moved  her  bed,  so  that  if  possible 
she  might  get  a  little  air — air  that  was  laden  with  vile,  stifling 
odors.  At  last  the  feeble  tossings  of  the  poor  sufferer  ceased, 
and  she  looked  around  intelligently.  Her  mother  kissed  her, 
and  said  soothingly,  ' '  Sleep,  dear,  and  you'  11  soon  be  better. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  continued  to  look  as  if  in  search 
of  some  one,  and  then  whispered, 

' '  Where  is  papa  ?' ' 

' '  You  are  not  strong  enough  to  see  him  now, ' '  her  mother 
replied  with  pallid  lips,  while  Mildred  put  her  hand  to  her 
side  from  the  intolerable  pain  in  her  heart 


WAS  BELLE   MURDERED?  483 

Belle  lay  still  a  few  moments,  and  they  breathed  low  in 
their  suspense.  Her  mother  kept  her  soothing  touch  upon 
her  brow,  while  Mildred  held  her  hand.  At  last  two  great 
tears  rolled  down  the  poor  girl's  face,  and  she  said  faintly, 
1 '  I  remember  now. ' ' 

"  Oh,  Belle,  darling,  sleep,"  murmured  her  mother,  "  and 
you  will  soon  get  well. ' '  Again  she  slowly  shook  her  head. 
"  Dear  little  mother,"  she  whispered,  "  forgive  naughty 
Belle  for  all  her  wild  ways.  You  were  always  patient  with 
me.  Pray  God  to  forgive  me,  for  I'm  going  fast.  If  He's 
like  you — I  won't  fear  Him." 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  would  have  fallen  on  her  child  if  Roger  had 
not  caught  her  and  placed  her  gently  on  the  lounge,  where 
she  lay  with  dry,  tearless  eyes  and  all  the  yearnings  of  the 
mother-heart  in  her  wan  face.  Belle's  eyes  followed  her 
wistfully,  then  turned  to  Mildred. 

"  Good-by,  Millie  darling,  best  of  sisters.  You  will  have 
a  long — happy  life — in  spite  of  all. ' ' 

Mildred  clung  to  her  passionately,  but  at  Belle's  faint  call 
for  Roger  she  knelt  at  the  bedside  and  looked  with  streaming 
eyes  on  the  near  approach  of  death. 

"  Roger,"  Belle  whispered,  "  lift  me  up.  I  want  to  die 
on  your  breast — you  saved  me — you  know.  Take  care  Mil 
lie — mamma — little  ones.  Don't  wake  them.  Now — tell 
me — some — thing — comforting  out  of — the  Bible. ' ' 

' '  '  God  is  not  willing  that  one  of  His  little  ones  should 
perish,'  "  said  the  young  fellow  brokenly,  thankful  that  he 
could  recall  the  words. 

;<  That's  sweet — I'm — one  of  His — littlest  ones.  It's — 
getting —  very  dark  —  Roger.  I  know  —  what  it — means. 
Good — by.  We'  11 — have — good — times — together — yet. ' ' 

Then  came  that  absolute  stillness  which  he  understood  too 
well.  He  bowed  his  head  upon  the  cold  brow  of  the  dead 
girl,  and  wept  as  only  strong  men  weep  in  their  first  great 


484  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

sorrow.  Mildred  almost  forgot  her  own  grief  in  trying  to 
lead  him  away  and  to  comfort  him,  but  he  clung  convulsively 
to  Belle's  lifeless  form.  At  last  he  broke  almost  frantically 
away. 

"  Roger,  Roger,"  cried  Mildred,  "  where  are  you  going? 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

"  I  don't  know — I  must  have  air  or  my  heart  will  break  ; 
I'll  go  mad.  She's  just  been  murdered,  murdered,"  and  he 
rushed  out. 

After  a  little  while  he  returned,  and  said,  "  There,  Millie, 
I'm  better.  I  won't  give  way  again,"  and  he  took  her  in 
his  arms  and  let  her  cry  away  some  of  the  pain  in  her  heart. 

Mrs.  Jocelyn  still  lay  upon  the  sofa,  white  as  marble,  and 
with  dry,  dilated  eyes.  She  was  far  beyond  tears. 

******** 

On  the  day  following  Belle's  death  the  Hon. 

sat  down  to  a  sumptuous  dinner  in  one  of  the  most  fashion 
able  of  the  Saratoga  hotels.  A  costly  bottle  of  wine  added 
its  ruddy  hue  to  his  florid  complexion.  The  waiters  were 
obsequious,  the  smiling  nods  of  recognition  from  other  dis 
tinguished  guests  of  the  house  were  flattering,  and  as  the 
different  courses  were  brought  on,  the  man  became  the  pic 
ture  of  corpulent  complacence.  His  aspect  might  have 
changed  could  he  have  looked  upon  the  still  form  of  the  once 
frolicsome,  beautiful  girl,  who  had  been  slain  because  he  had 
failed  so  criminally  in  fidelity  to  his  oath  of  office.  It  would 
not  have  been  a  pleasant  task  for  him  to  estimate  how  much 
of  the  money  that  should  have  brought  cleanliness  and  health 
among  the  tenements  of  the  poor  was  being  worse  than 
wasted  on  his  own  gross  personality. 


THE  FINAL  CONSOLA  TIONS  OF  OPIUM.        485 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

THE  FINAL  CONSOLATIONS  OF  OPIUM. 

*  I  ""HE  glowing  September  sun  had  rarely  revealed  a  sadder 
JL  group  than  that  which  still  watched  beside  poor  Belle. 
At  last  Roger  looked  at  his  watch  and  said, 

"  I  will  now  go  and  see  Mr.  Wentworth,  and  bring  Mrs. 
Wheaton. ' ' 

"  Very  well,  Roger,"  Mildred  replied,  "we  leave  every 
thing  in  your  hands." 

' '  Millie,  I  can' t  bear  to  have  Belle  placed  in  one  of  the 
crowded  city  cemeteries.  Would  you  not  be  willing  to  have 
her  sleep  in  our  tree-shadowed  graveyard  at  Forestville  ? 
We  could  keep  flowers  on  her  grave  there  as  long  as  we 
lived. ' ' 

"  Oh,  Roger,  how  kind  of  you  to  think  of  that  1  It  would 
be  such  a  comfort  to  us  !" 

"  I  will  take  her  there  myself  on  the  evening  boat,"  he 
said  decisively,  and  he  hastened  away  feeling  that  he  must 
act  promptly,  for  his  aching  head  and  limbs  led  him  to  fear 
that  Belle's  fever  was  already  in  his  veins.  Mr.  Wentworth 
overflowed  with  sympathy,  and  hastened  to  the  afflicted  family 
with  nourishing  delicacies.  Mrs.  Wheaton  soon  followed, 
tearful  and  regretful. 

"  I  didn't  know,"  she  said  ;  "  I've 'ad  aside  child  or  T'd 
a  been  hover  before.  Not  'earing  from  you  I  thought  hall 
vas  veil,  and  there's  the  poor  dear  dead,  an'  I  might  'ave 
done  so  much  for  'er." 

' '  No,  Mrs.  Wheaton,  all  was  done  that  could  be  done  in 


486  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

this  poisoned  air.  We  feared  you  might  catch  the  fever  if 
you  came,  and  we  knew  you  would  come." 

"  Hindeed  I  vould,  if  you  hall  'ad  the  small-pox.  Now 
I'm  going  to  do  heverything, "  and  she  fretted  at  every  effort 
of  the  exhausted  watchers  to  help  her. 

Roger  telegraphed  his  father  to  meet  him  at  the  boat  with 
the  village  hearse.  The  news  spread  fast,  and  the  little  com 
munity  was  soon  deeply  stirred  with  sympathetic  interest. 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  was  too  weak  to  endure  the  journey,  and  Mil 
dred  would  not  leave  her.  Therefore  Mr.  Wentworth  held 
a  simple,  heartfelt  service  over  the  one  they  all  so  loved,  and 
Roger  departed  on  his  sad  errand.  He  was  eager  to  get 
away,  and,  if  the  thought  of  Belle  had  not  been  uppermost 
in  all  minds,  it  would  have  been  seen  that  he  was  far  from 
well  in  spite  of  his  almost  desperate  efforts  to  hide  his  illness. 
His  father  found  him  on  the  boat  delirious  with  fever.  The 
old  man's  face  was  haggard  and  drawn  as  he  returned  to 
Forestville  with  his  two  helpless  burdens,  grieving  far  more 
for  the  one  that  was  ill  than  for  the  one  that  was  dead.  "It's 
turning  out  just  as  brother  Ezra  said, ' '  he  growled.  ' '  A  man's 
a  fool  to  mix  himself  up  with  other  people's  troubles."  The 
interest  in  the  village  deepened  into  strong  excitement  when 
it  became  known  that  Roger  was  ill  with  the  fever  that  had 
caused  Belle's  death,  some  timid  ones  fearing  that  a  pesti 
lence  would  soon  be  raging  in  their  midst.  But  the  great 
majority  yielded  to  their  good  impulses,  and  Mrs.  Atwood 
was  overwhelmed  with  offers  of  assistance.  Several  young 
farmers  to  whom  Belle  had  given  a  heartache  a  few  weeks 
before  volunteered  to  watch  beside  her  until  the  funeral,  and 
there  was  a  deeper  ache  in  their  hearts  as  they  sat  reverently 
around  the  fair  young  sleeper.  The  funeral  was  a  memo 
rable  one  in  Forestville,  for  the  most  callous  heart  was 
touched  by  the  pathos  of  the  untimely  death. 

Meanwhile  poor  Roger  was  tossing  in  fever  and  muttering 


THE  FINAL  CONSOLA  TIONS  OF  OPIUM.        487 

constantly  of  his  past  life.     The  name,  however,  oftenest  on 
his  lips  was  that  of  Millie  Jocelyn. 

Never  before  in  all  the  troubled  past  did  the  poor  girl  so 
need  his  sustaining  love  as  on  the  night  he  left  her.  Mr. 
Wentworth  spent  an  hour  with  the  sad  mother  and  daughter 
after  the  others  had  gone,  and  then  sorrowfully  departed, 
saying  that  he  had  an  engagement  out  of  town,  and  that  he 
would  come  again  immediately  on  his  return.  Mrs.  Wheaton 
had  gone  home,  promising  that  she  would  come  back  in  the 
evening  and  spend  the  night  with  them,  for  she  had  a  neigh 
bor  who  would  take  care  of  the  children,  and  so  at  last 
the  two  stricken  women  were  left  alone. 

Mildred  was  bathing  her  mother's  head  and  trying  to  com 
fort  her  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  haggard,  unkempt  man 
stood  before  them.  For  a  second  they  looked  at  him  in 
vague  terror,  for  he  stood  in  a  deep  shadow,  and  then  Mrs. 
Jocelyn  cried,  "Martin!  Martin!"  and  tears  came  to  her 
relief  at  last. 

He  approached  slowly  and  tremblingly.  Mildred  was 
about  to  throw  herself  into  his  arms,  but  he  pushed  her  away. 
His  manner  began  to  fill  them  with  a  vague,  horrible  dread, 
for  he  acted  like  a  spectre  of  a  man. 

"  Where  are  the  children  ?"  he  asked  hoarsely. 

"  We  have  sent  them  to  the  country.  Oh,  papa,  do  be 
kind  and  natural — you  will  kill  mamma." 

' '  There  is  crape  on  the  door  -  knob, ' '  he  faltered. 
"Where's  Belle?" 

'''  Oh,  oh,  oh  !"  sobbed  Mildred.  "  Papa,  papa,  have 
mercy  on  us.  Can't  you  sustain  and  help  us  at  such  a  time 
as  this  ?' ' 

' '  She  is  dead,  then, ' '  he  whispered,  and  he  sank  into  a 
chair  as  if  struck  down. 

' '  Yes,  she' s  dead.  You  were  the  first  one  she  asked  for 
when  she  came  out  of  her  fever." 


WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

tl  Great  God  !  my  punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear," 
he  groaned. 

"Oh,  Martin,"  pleaded  his  wife,  "come  to  me,"  and 
too  weak  to  rise  from  her  couch  she  held  out  her  arms  to 
him. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  remorse  and  agony  in  his  expres 
sion  that  were  indescribable.  "No,  Nan,"  he  said,  "I'm 
not  fit  for  you  to  touch  now.  F  m  murdering  you  all, ' '  and 
he  went  hastily  to  his  room  and  locked  the  door. 

They  waited,  scarcely  breathing  in  their  deep  apprehension. 

In  a  few  moments  he  came  out,  and  his  face  was  rigid  and 
desperate  in  its  aspect.  In  spite  of  his  repelling  gesture  Mil 
dred  clasped  him  in  her  arms.  The  embrace  seemed  to  tor 
ture  him.  "Let  me  go!"  he  cried,  breaking  away.  "I 
poison  the  very  air  I  breathe.  You  both  are  like  angels  of 
heaven  and  I — O  God  !  But  the  end  has  come, ' '  and  he 
rushed  out  into  the  gathering  darkness.  Mrs.  jocelyn  tried 
to  follow  him,  and  fell  prostrate  with  a  despairing  cry  on  the 
floor. 

Mildred's  first  impulse  was  to  restore  her  mother,  without 
seeking  help,  in  the  faint  hope  that  her  father  would  re 
turn,  for  she  had  learned  what  strange  alternations  of  mood 
opium  produces  ;  but  as  the  sense  of  his  words  grew  clearer 
she  was  overpowered,  and  trembled  so  violently  that  she  was 
compelled  to  call  to  her  help  a  neighbor — a  plain,  good- 
hearted  woman  who  lived  on  the  same  floor.  When  aflast 
Mrs.  Jocelyn  revived  she  murmured  piteously, 

"  Oh,  Millie,  why  didn't  you  let  me  die  ?" 

"  Mamma,"  pleaded  the  girl,  "  how  can  you  even-  think 
of  leaving  me  ?" 

"  Millie,  Millie  darling,  I  fear  I  must.  My  heart  feels  as 
if  it  were  bleeding  internally.  Millie" — and  she  grasped  her 
child's  shoulder  convulsively,  "  Millie,  look  in  his  room  for 
• — for — his  pistol." 


THE  FINAL  CON  SO  LA  TIONS  OF  OPIUM.       489 

"  Oh,  mamma,  mamma  !" 

"  Look,  look  !"  said  her  mother  excitedly.  "  I  can't  bear 
the  suspense. ' ' 

Thinking  that  her  mother  was  a  little  hysterical,  and  that 
compliance  would  quiet  her,  Mildred  went  to  the  place  where 
her  father  always  kept  his  cavalry  revolver — the  one  memento 
left  of  his  old  heroic  army  life.  //  was  gone  I 

She  almost  sank  to  the  floor  in  terror,  nor  did  she  dare 
return  to  her  mother. 

"Millie,  Millie,  quick!"  came  in  a  faint  cry  from  the 
outer  room. 

The  poor  girl  rushed  forward  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
mother's  bosom,  sobbing,  "  Mamma,  oh  mamma,  live  for 
my  sake. ' ' 

' c  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it, ' '  said  the  stricken  wife,  with  a  long 
low  cry.  "  I  saw  it  in  his  desperate  face.  Oh,  Martin, 
Martin,  we  will  die  together  !" 

She  clasped  Mildred  tightly,  trembled  convulsively  a 
moment,  and  then  her  arms  fell  back,  and  she  was  as  still  aa 
poor  Belle  had  been. 

"  Oh,  mamma  !"  Mildred  almost  shrieked,  but  she  was  fa» 
beyond  recall,  and  the  suffering  heart  was  at  rest. 

When  the  woman  returned  with  the  cup  of  tea  she  had  gone 
to  prepare  for  Mrs.  Jocelyn,  she  found  the  young  girl  leaning 
forward  unconscious  on  the  bosom  of  the  dead  mother. 

When  she  revived  it  was  only  to  moan  and  wring  her  hands 
in  despair.  Mrs.  Wheaton  soon  appeared,  and  having 
learned  what  had  happened  she  threw  her  apron  over  her 
head  and  rocked  back  and  forth  in  her  strong  sympathetic 
grief.  But  her  good  heart  was  not  long  content  with  tears* 
and  she  took  Mildred  into  her  arms  and  said, 

"  I  vill  be  a  mother  to  you,  and  you  shall  never  vant  a 
'ome  vile  I  'ave  von,"  and  the  motherless  girl  cluug  to  her 
in  a  way  that  did  the  kind  soul  a  world  of  good. 


49°  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

Before  the  evening  was  very  far  advanced  a  boy  brought  a 
note  to  the  door.  Mildred  seized  it  and  asked, 

"Who  gave  it  to  you?" 

"I  don't  know — a  man.  He  pointed  to  this  door,  and 
then  he  went  away  very  fast ' ' 

She  tore  it  open,  and  read  in  horror  :  "  My  darling  wife, 
dear  beyond  all  words  in  these  my  final  despairing  moments. 
My  love  for  you  and  those  left  is  the  only  trace  of  good  re 
maining  in  my  heart.  I  die  for  your  sakes.  My  continued 
existence  would  be  a  curse,  for  I  have  lost  my  manhood.  I 
am  possessed  by  a  devil  that  I  can' t  control.  I  cannot  ask 
you  to  forgive  me.  I  can  never  forgive  myself.  Farewell. 
After  I  am  gone,  brighter  days  will  come  to  you  all.  Pity 
me  if  you  can,  forgive  me  if  you  can,  and  remember  me  as  I 
was  before — ' '  And  there  the  terrible  missive  ended. 

For  an  hour  the  girl  lay  moaning  as  if  in  mortal  pain,  and 
then  the  physician  who  was  summoned  gave  her  a  sedative 
which  made  her  sleep  long  and  heavily.  It  was  quite  late 
in  the  morning  when  she  awoke,  and  the  events  that  had 
passed  first  came  to  her  like  a  horrid  dream,  and  then  grew 
into  terrible  reality.  But  she  was  not  left  to  meet  the 
emergency  alone,  for  Mrs.  Wheaton  and  Clara  Wilson 
watched  beside  her.  The  latter  in  her  strong  sympathy  had 
come  to  the  city  to  take  Mildred  and  her  mother  to  the  coun 
try,  and  she  said  to  Mrs.  Wheaton  that  she  would  now  never 
leave  her  friend  until  she  was  in  the  breezy  farm-house. 

After  a  natural  outburst  of  grief  Mildred  again  proved  that 
Arnold's  estimate  of  her  was  correct.  She  was  equal  to  even 
this  emergency,  for  she  eventually  grew  quiet  and  resolute. 
"  I  must  find  papa,"  she  said. 

"  Shall  I  ?"  Mrs.  Wilson  asked  Mrs.  Wheaton  significantly. 

"  Yes,  Millie  is  more  hof  a  soldier  than  hany  hof  us." 

"Well,"  continued  Mrs.  Wilson,  "  Mrs.  Wheaton  found 
this  in  the  morning  paper  :  '  An  unknown  man  committed 


THE  FINAL  CONSOLA  TIONS  OF  OPIUM.       491 

suicide  on  the  steps  of  No.  73 Street.  His  remains 

have  been  taken  to  the  Morgue  for  identification. '  ' 

For  a  few  moments  Mildred  so  trembled  and  looked  so 
crushed  that  they  feared  for  her  exceedingly.  ' '  Poor  papa  !" 
she  moaned,  "  he  was  just  insane  from  remorse  and  opium. 

Seventy-three  Street !  Why,  that  was  the  house  in 

which  we  used  to  live.  It  was  there  that  papa  spent  his  first 
happy  years  in  this  city,  and  it  was  there  he  went  to  die.  Oh, 
how  dreadful,  how  inexpressibly  sad  it  all  is  !  What  shall  we 
do?" 

"  Leave  hall  to  me,"  said  Mrs.  Wheaton.  "  Mrs.  Wil 
son,  you  stay  '  ere  with  the  poor  dear,  an '  I'  11  hattend  to  hevery- 
thing." 

Mildred  was  at  last  too  overpowered  to  do  more  than  lie 
on  the  lounge,  breathing  in  long  tremulous  sighs. 

Mrs.  Wheaton  went  at  once  to  the  Morgue  and  found  that 
the  "  unknown  man"  was  indeed  Mr.  Jocelyn,  and  yet  he 
had  so  changed,  and  a  bullet-hole  in  his  temple  had  given  him 
such  a  ghastly  appearance,  that  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that 
he  was  the  handsome,  courtly  gentleman  who  had  first  brought 
his  beautiful  daughter  to  the  old  mansion. 

Mrs.  Wheaton  represented  to  the  authorities  that  he  was 
very  poor,  that  his  daughter  was  an  orphan  and  overcome 
with  grief,  and  that  she  now  was  the  nearest  friend  of  the 
afflicted  girl.  Her  statement  was  accepted,  and  then  with 
her  practical  good  sense  she  attended  to  everything. 

During  her  absence  Mildred  had  sighed,  "  Oh,  I  do  so 
wish  that  Roger  Atwood  were  here  !  He  gives  me  hope  and 
courage  when  no  one  else  can. ' ' 

"  Millie,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  tearfully,  "for  his  sake  you 
must  rally  and  be  braver  than  you  have  ever  been  before.  I 
think  his  life  now  depends  upon  you.  He  has  the  fever,  and 
in  his  delirium  he  calls  for  you  constantly." 

At  first  Mrs.  Wilson  thought  the  shock  of  her  tidings  would 


492  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

be  more  disastrous  to  the  poor  girl,  already  so  unnerved  and 
exhausted,  than  all  the  terrible  events  which  had  thus  far 
occurred.  ' '  I  have  brought  him  nothing  but  suffering  and 
misfortune,"  she  cried.  "He  gave  up  everything  for  us, 
and  now  we  may  cost  him  his  life. ' ' 

' '  Millie,  he  is  not  dead,  and  you,  if  any  one,  can  bring 
him  life. ' ' 

She  had  touched  the  right  chord,  for  the  young  girl  soon 
became  quiet  and  resolute.  "  He  never  failed  me,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  and  I  won't  fail  him." 

"  That  is  the  right  way  to  feel,"  said  Mrs.  Wilson  eagerly. 
"  I  now  think  that  everything  depends  on  your  courage  and 
fortitude.  Mrs.  Wheaton  and  I  have  planned  it  all  out. 
We'll  go  to  Forestville  on  the  evening  boat,  and  take  your 
father's  and  mother's  remains  with  us." 

Mrs.  Wheaton  learned  from  the  undertaker  connected  with 
Mr.  Wentworth's  chapel  that  the  clergyman  would  not  be 
back  until  evening,  and  she  told  the  former  to  tell  their  pas 
tor  all  that  had  occurred,  and  to  ask  him  to  keep  the  circum 
stances  of  Mr.  Jocelyn's  death  as  quiet  as  possible. 

The  man  was  discreet  and  energetic,  and  they  were  all  so 
expeditious  that  the  evening  saw  them  with  their  sad  freight 
on  the  way  to  Forestville,  the  keys  of  Mildred's  rooms  hav 
ing  been  left  with  the  kind  woman  who  had  befriended  her 
in  the  sudden  and  awful  emergency.  Mrs.  Wheaton  parted 
from  Mildred  as  if  she  were  her  own  child,  and  went  mourn 
fully  back  to  her  busy,  useful  life.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jocelyn 
were  buried  with  a  quiet,  simple  service  beside  poor  Belle, 
and  sensible  .Mrs.  Wilson  soon  inspired  the  good-hearted  vil 
lage  people  with  the  purpose  to  spare  the  feelings  of  the 
stricken  girl  in  every  possible  way.  Mildred  caressed  her 
little  brother  and  sister  with  the  tenderness  of  a  mother  added 
to  her  sisterly  affection,  and  she  was  comforted  to  see  how 
much  they  had  already  improved  in  the  pure  country  air. 


THE  FINAL    CONSOLATIONS  OF  OPIUM.       493 

"  Oh,  Clara,"  she  said,  "  what  a  friend  you  have  been  to 
me!  God  alone  can  repay  you." 

"Millie,"  Mrs.  Wilson  earnestly  replied,  "I  owe  you  a 
debt  I  can  never  pay.  I  owe  you  and  darling  Belle  happi 
ness  and  prosperity  for  this  life,  and  my  hope  of  the  life  to 
come.  My  husband  is  strong  and  prosperous,  and  he  says  I 
shall  do  all  that' s  in  my  heart  for  you.  Oh,  Millie,  he  is  so 
good  to  me,  and  he  cried  over  Belle  like  a  child.  I  thought 
I  loved  him  before,  but  when  I  saw  those  tears  I  just  wor 
shipped  him.  He  has  a  man's  heart,  like  Roger.  Now, 
Millie,  I'm  going  to  keep  these  children  as  long  as  you'll 
let  me,  and  treat  them  as  my  own.  I  feel  that  the  promise 
has  been  given  to  me  that  they'  11  grow  up  to  be  a  great  com 
fort  to  us  both." 

On  the  evening  after  the  funeral  Mildred  went  to  aid  in 
the  care  of  Roger,  and  Mrs.  Atwood  greeted  her  with  all  the 
warmth  and  tenderness  that  a  daughter  would  have  received. 
Even  Mr.  Atwood  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes  as  he  said, 
' '  If  you'  11  help  us  save  our  boy,  you'  11  find  that  I'  m  not  as 
crabbed  and  crooked  a  stick  as  I  seem. ' ' 

Mildred  was  shocked  and  her  heart  chilled  with  fear  at  the 
change  in  Roger,  but  her  hand  upon  his  brow  and  her  voice 
did  more  to  quiet  him  than  all  the  physician' s  remedies. 
She  became  his  almost  tireless  watcher,  and  she  said  hope 
fully  that  the  bracing  autumn  winds  rustled  around  the  farm 
house  like  the  wings  of  ministering  angels,  and  that  they 
would  bring  life  and  health  to  the  fever-stricken  man.  They 
all  wondered  at  her  endurance,  for  while  she  looked  so  frail 
she  proved  herself  so  strong.  At  last  the  crisis  came,  as  it 
had  in  Belle's  case,  but  instead  of  waking  to  die  he  passed 
from  delirium  into  a  quiet  sleep,  Mildred  holding  his  hand, 
and  when  he  opened  his  eyes  with  the  clear  glance  of  intelli 
gence,  they  first  looked  upon  her  dear  face.  ' '  Millie, ' '  he 
whispered. 


494  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

She  put  her  fingers  upon  her  lips,  smiled,  and  said,  "  I 
won't  leave  you  if  you  will  be  good  and  do  all  I  say.  You 
never  failed  me  yet,  Roger,  and  you  must  not  now." 

"  I'll  surely  get  well  if  you  stay  with  me,  Millie, ' '  he 
answered  contentedly,  and  soon  he  slept  again  as  quietly  as 
a  child. 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  495 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

MOTHER    AND    SON. 

OUR  story  passes  rapidly  over  the  events  of  the  ensuing 
months.  In  his  native  mountain  air,  and  under  the 
impulse  of  his  strong,  unbroken  constitution,  Roger  recovered 
rapidly  and  steadily.  As  soon  as  he  was  strong  enough  he 
went  to  the  village  cemetery,  and,  leaning  his  head  on  Belle's 
grave,  sobbed  until  Mildred  led  him  away.  For  a  long  time 
tears  would  come  into  his  eyes  whenever  the  names  of  Mrs. 
Jocelyn  and  the  young  girl  he  loved  so  fondly  were  men 
tioned.  He  and  Mildred  planted  the  sacred  place  thick 
with  roses  and  spring-flowering  bulbs. 

Mildred  resisted  all  entreaties  to  remain  in  the  country 
saying  that  she  was  a  city  girl  at  heart,  and  that,  with  Mr. 
Wentworth's  aid,  she  could  easily  earn  her  livelihood  in 
town,  and  do-  much  for  Fred  and  Minnie.  Moreover,  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  be  parted  from  Roger,  for  seemingly 
he  had  become  an  inseparable  part  of  her  life.  The  experi 
ences  he  had  shared  with  her  were  developing  within  him  a 
strong  and  noble  manhood,  and  he  vowed  that  the  young 
girl  who  had  known  so  much  sorrow  should  have  all  the 
happiness  that  he  could  bring  to  pass. 

When  Mrs.  Wheaton  learned  of  Mildred's  purpose  to  re 
turn  to  town,  she  took  more  commodious  apartments  in  the 
old  mansion,  and  set  apart  a  room  for  the  young  girl.  She 
also  sold  most  of  her  own  things  and  took  Mildred' s  furniture 
out  of  storage,  so  that  the  place  might  seem  familiar  and 
homelike  to  her  friend. 


496  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

When  Roger  had  almost  recovered  his  wonted  health,  Mrs. 
Atwood  told  her  husband  that  he  must  go  with  her  to  visit 
his  brother  in  town,  for  the  worthy  woman  had  a  project  on 
her  mind  which  she  carried  out  with  characteristic  directness 
and  simplicity. 

They  surprised  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ezra  Atwood  at  breakfast, 
and  partook  of  the  cheer  offered  them  rather  grimly  and 
silently.  After  the  meal  was  over  Roger's  mother  said,  with 
out  any  circumlocution, 

"  Brother-in-law,  I've  come  to  have  a  plain,  honest  talk 
with  you,  and  if  you'  re  a  true  Atwood  you'  11  listen  to  me. 
I  want  your  wife  and  my  husband  to  be  present.  We  are 
nigh  of  kin,  but  we  are  forgetting  ties  which  the  Lord  hath 
ordained.  Ezra,  I  believe  you  are  a  good  man  at  heart,  but, 
like  my  husband,  you  set  too  much  store  by  things  that  per 
ish  in  the  using.  My  boy  has  taught  me  that  there  are  bet 
ter  things  in  this  world,  and  we'  11  all  soon  be  where  we  may 
look  on  money  as  a  curse.  You  have  not  spoken  to  my  son 
since  last  spring,  and  you've  been  cold  toward  us.  I  want 
you  to  know  the  truth,  and  realize  what  you're  doing  ;  then 
if  you  go  on  in  this  way,  you  must  settle  it  with  your  own 
conscience  ;"  and  with  a  homely  pathos  all  her.  own  she  told 
the  whole  story. 

The  uncle  at  first  tried  to  be  grim  and  obstinate,  but  he 
soon  broke  down  completely.  "I'm  glad  you've  come," 
he  said  huskily.  ' '  My  conscience  hasn'  t  given  me  any  peace 
for  months,  and  I  wanted  to  give  in,  but  you  know  that  it's 
like  drawing  an  eye-tooth  for  an  Atwood  to  give  in.  I'm 
proud  of  the  boy,  and  he'  11  be  a  blessing  to  us  all.  He  is  a 
new  departure  in  the  family  ;  he's  got  more  brains  than  any 
of  us,  and  with  it  all  a  big,  brave  heart.  He  shall  marry  the 
girl  if  he  wants  to  ;  and  now  that  her  old  wretch  of  a  father  is 
dead,  no  harm  need  come  of  it.  But  they'  re  young  ;  they 
must  wait  until  Roger  is  educated  up  to  the  best  of  'em. 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  497 

Well,  now  that  I've  given  in,  there  shall  be  no  half-way 
work,"  and  he  insisted  on  sending  for  his  lawyer  and  making 
his  will  in  Roger's  favor  at  once. 

"I  didn't  come  for  any  such  purpose  as  this,"  said 
Roger's  mother,  wiping  her  eyes,  while  his  father  could 
scarcely  conceal  his  exultation  ;  ' '  but  I  felt  that  it  was  time 
for  us  to  stop  living  like  heathen, ' '  and  after  a  visit  of  a  very 
different  nature  from  the  one  they  had  feared,  the  worthy 
couple  returned  to  Forestville  well  content  with  the  results  of 
their  expedition. 

Roger  was  jubilant  over  the  news,  and  he  hastened  to  im 
part  it  to  Mildred,  who  was  spending  the  remaining  weeks  of 
her  sojourn  in  the  country  with  her  friend  Mrs.  Wilson. 

"Millie,"  he  said,  "you  shall  never  want  again.  My 
good  fortune  would  be  nothing  to  me  unless  I  shared  it  with 
you." 

But  she  disappointed  him  by  saying,  "  No,  Roger,  you 
must  let  me  live  the  independent  life  that  my  nature  re 
quires,"  and  the  only  concession  that  he  could  obtain  from 
her  was  a  promise  to  receive  his  aid  should  any  emergency 
require  it. 

Before  Mildred's  return  a  letter  from  Vinton  Arnold  was 
forwarded  to  her  at  Forestville,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that 
it  gave  her  sad  heart  something  like  a  thrill  of  happiness.  It 
was  an  eloquent  and  grateful  outpouring  of  affection,  and 
was  full  of  assurances  that  she  had  now  given  him  a  chance 
for  life  and  happiness. 

When  she  told  Roger,  he  looked  very  grim  for  a  moment, 

and  then  by  a  visible  effort  brightened  up  and  said,  "  It's  all 

right,  Millie."     After  pacing  the  room  for  a  few  moments 

with  a  contracted  brow,   he  continued,  "  Millie,  you  must 

~v.nt  me  one  request — you  must  not  say  anything  to  Arnold 

t  me." 

'  jw  can  I  say  anything  then  about  myself  ?' '  she  an- 


498  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

swered.  ' '  I  want  him  to  know  that  I  owe  everything  to  you, 
and  I  hope  to  see  the  day  when  you  will  be  the  closest  of 
friends. ' ' 

' '  Well,  that  will  be  a  good  way  on.  I  must  see  him  first, 
and  learn  more  about  him  ;  and — well,  friends  related  as 
Arnold  will  be  to  me  are  not  common.  I've  too  much  of 
the  old  untamed  man  in  me  to  go  readily  into  that  kind  of 
thing.  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you,  but  you 
must  not  expect  much  more  till  I  have  a  few  gray  hairs  in  my 
head.  Come,  now,  you  must  humor  me  a  little  in  this  affair ; 
you  can  say  generally  that  some  friends  were  kind,  and  all 
that,  without  much  personal  reference  to  me.  If  you  should 
write  as  you  propose,  he  might  be  jealous,  or — worse  yet — 
write  me  a  letter  of  thanks.  It  may  prevent  complications, 
and  will  certainly  save  me  some  confoundedly  disagreeable 
experiences.  After  I've  seen  him  and  get  more  used  to  it  all, 
I  may  feel  differently. ' ' 

"  You  certainly  will,  Roger.  Your  life  will  gradually  be 
come  so  rich,  full,  and  happy,  that  some  day  you  will  look 
back  in  wonder  at  your  present  feelings. " 

' '  Life  will  be  full  enough  if  work  can  make  it  so  ;  but  you 
must  not  expect  me  to  outgrow  this.  It  will  strengthen  with 
my  years.  It's  my  nature  as  well  as  yours.  But  I  foresee 
how  it  will  be,"  he  continued  despondently  ;  "  I  shall  in 
evitably  be  pushed  farther  and  farther  into  the  background. 
In  your  happy  home  life — " 

Before  he  could  utter  another  word  Mildred  was  sobbing 
passionately.  ' '  Roger, ' '  she  cried,  ' '  don' t  talk  that  way. 
I  can't  bear  it.  If  Vinton  is  jealous  of  you,  if  he  fails  in 
manly  appreciation  of  you,  I  will  never  marry  him.  Strong 
as  my  love  is  for  him,  such  a  course  would  destroy  it 
There  are  certain  kinds  of  weakness  that  I  can't  and  won't 
tolerate." 

He  was  surprised  and  deeply  touched,  for  her  manner  was 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  499 

usually  so  quiet  and  well  controlled  that  even  he  was  at  times 
tempted  to  forget  how  strong  and  passionate  was  her  nature 
on  occasions  sufficient  to  awaken  it  "  There,  Millie, 
I've  hurt  your  feelings,"  he  said  remorsefully.  "  Even  I  do 
not  half  understand  your  good,  kind  heart.  Well,  you  must 
have  patience  with  me.  When  the  right  time  comes  my 
deeds  will  satisfy  you,  I  think,  though  my  words  are  now  so 
unpromising.  But  please  don't  deny  me — don't  say  any 
thing  about  me  until  I  give  you  permission.  What  has 
occurred  between  us  is  sacred  to  me — it's  our  affair." 

' '  Very  well,  if  you  so  wish  it ;  but  never  even  think  again 
that  you  will  ever  be  less  to  me  than  you  are  now." 

Nevertheless  he  went  sadly  away,  saying  to  himself,  "  She's 
sincere,  Heaven  knows,  but  what  I  said  will  be  true  in  spite 
of  her  best  intentions. ' ' 

The  next  day,  after  many  farewells  and  an  hour  spent 
beside  Belle's  grave,  Roger  returned  to  the  city,  far  better  pre 
pared  for  life's  battle  than  when  he  first  left  his  native  village. 
Two  or  three  days  later  Mildred  followed  him,  accompanied 
by  Mrs.  Wilson,  who  was  determined  to  see  her  safely  settled 
in  Mrs.  Wheaton's  care.  Pain  and  pleasure  were  almost 
equally  blended  in  Mildred's  experience  as  she  looked  upon 
the  furniture  and  the  one  or  two  pictures  that  had  escaped 
their  poverty — all  of  which  were  so  inseparable,  in  their  asso 
ciations,  from  those  who  were  gone,  yet  never  absent  long 
from  memory.  But  the  pleasure  soon  got  the  better  of  the 
pain,  for  she  did  not  wish  to  forget.  Mrs.  Wheaton's  welcome 
was  so  hearty  as  to  be  almost  overpowering,  and  when  Roger 
appeared  in  the  evening  with  a  beautiful  picture  for  her  walls 
she  smiled  as  she  once  thought  she  never  could  smile  again. 
Mr.  Wentworth  also  called,  and  was  so  kind  and  sympa 
thetic  that  the  young  girl  felt  that  she  was  far  from  friendless. 
"  I  so  managed  it,"  he  whispered  in  parting,  "  that  there 
was  little  public  reference  to  your  father's  sad  end.  Now, 


500  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

Millie,  turn  your  thoughts  toward  the  future.     Let  Roger 
make  you  happy.      Believe  me,  he's  pure  gold." 

"  Just  what  poor  Belle  said,"  she  thought  sighingly  after 
he  had  gone.  "  I  must  disappoint  them  all.  But  Roger 
will  help  me  out.  He  deserves  a  far  better  wife  than  poor 
shamed,  half-crushed  Millie  Jocelyn  can  ever  make  him,  and 
he  shall  have  her,  too,  for  he  is  much  too  young  and  strong 
not  to  get  over  all  this  before  many  years  elapse. 

Life  soon  passed  into  a  peaceful,  busy  routine.  Roger  was 
preparing  himself  for  the  junior  class  in  college  under  the 
best  of  tutors,  and  his  evenings,  spent  with  Mildred,  were 
usually  prefaced  by  a  brisk  walk  in  the  frosty  air.  Then  he 
either  read  aloud  to  her  or  talked  of  what  was  Greek  to  good- 
natured  Mrs.  Wheaton,  who  sat  knitting  in  a  corner  discreetly 
blind  and  deaf.  Unknown  to  Mildred,  he  was  able  to  aid  her 
very  efficiently,  for  he  taxed  Mrs.  Wentworth's  ingenuity  in 
the  invention  of  all  kinds  of  delicate  fancy  work,  and  that 
good  lady,  in  the  most  business-like  manner,  gave  the  orders 
to  Mildred,  who  thought  that,  considering  the  hard  times, 
she  was  wonderfully  prosperous. 

Twice  during  the  winter  she  went  with  Roger  to  Forest- 
ville,  and  she  had  her  little  brother  and  sister  spend  the  Christ 
mas  week  with  her.  It  was  the  brightest  experience  the  little 
people  ever  remembered,  although,  unnoted  by  them,  Mil 
dred,  with  sad  memories  that  do  not  belong  to  childhood, 
often  wiped  bitter  tears  from  her  eyes  as  she  recalled  the  ter 
rible  events  of  the  preceding  holiday  season.  She  became 
an  efficient  ally  of  Mr.  Wentworth,  and  was  almost  as  glad 
to  aid  him,  in  return  for  his  stanch  friendship,  as  the  cause 
he  represented. 

She  and  Vinton  Arnold  maintained  quite  a  regular  corre 
spondence,  and  the  fact  occasioned  the  young  man  more 
than  one  stormy  scene.  His  mother  saw  Mildred's  letter  be 
fore  he  received  it,  and  the  effect  of  the  missive  upon  him,  in 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  SO1 

spite  of  his  efforts  at  concealment,  were  so  marked  that  she 
at  once  surmised  the  source  from  which  it  came.  The  fact 
that  a  few  words  from  Mildred  had  done  more  for  the  invalid 
than  all  the  expensive  physicians  and  the  many  health  resorts 
they  had  visited  would  have  led  most  mothers  to  query 
whether  the  secret  of  good  health  had  not  been  found.  Mrs. 
Arnold,  on  the  contrary,  was  only  angered  and  rendered 
more  implacable  than  ever  against  the  girl.  She  wrote  to  her 
husband,  however,  to  find  out  what  he  could  about  her  fam 
ily,  believing  that  the  knowledge  might  be  useful.  Mr. 
Arnold  merely  learned  the  bare  facts  that  the  Jocelyns  had 
become  greatly  impoverished,  that  they  were  living  in  low 
tenements,  that  the  father  had  become  a  wretched  sot,  and, 
worse  than  all,  that  the  girl  herself  had  been  in  a  station- 
house,  although  he  believed  she  was  proved  innocent  of  the 
charge  against  her.  He  therefore  wrote  to  his  wife  that  the 
correspondence  must  cease  at  once,  since  it  might  involve 
the  family  in  disgrace — certainly  in  disgraceful  associations. 
He  also  wrote  to  his  son  to  desist,  under  the  penalty  of  his 
heaviest  displeasure.  With  an  expression  of  horror  on  her 
face,  Mrs.  Arnold  showed  this  letter  to  her  son.  In  vain  he 
tried  to  protest  that  not  one  evil  thing  against  Mildred  could 
be  proved  ;  that  she  was  innocence  and  purity  itself ;  that  her 
misfortunes  and  the  wrong  of  others  were  no  reason  for  de 
sertion  on  his  part  His  mother  for  once  lost  her  frigid 
politeness.  "  What !"  she  almost  screamed,  "do  you  think 
we  would  ever  let  that  horrid  creature  bear  our  name  ?  A 
woman  who  has  been  in  a  prison  cell,  and  mixed  up  with  the 
vilest  and  lowest  people  in  the  city,  should  not  even  be  named 
in  my  presence. ' ' 

Her  son  gave  her  a  strange,  vindictive  look.  ' '  You  un 
natural  mother,"  he  muttered  between  his  teeth,  "thus  to 
speak  of  the  girl  to  whom  your  son  has  given  his  best  love,  and 
who  is  worthy  of  it !"  and  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  her. 


50-2  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

Mrs.  Arnold  became  somewhat  hysterical,  and  wrote  home 
that  she  believed  that  Vinton  was  losing  his  mind.  She  soon 
learned,  however,  that  she  would  have  no  ground  for  such  a 
charge,  although  her  son  was  becoming  greatly  changed. 
His  politeness  to  her  was  scrupulous  to  a  nicety,  but  was  un 
relenting  in  its  icy  coldness.  At  the  same  time  she  knew  that 
he  was  continuing  the  correspondence,  and  she  saw,  too, 
that  he  was  making  the  most  studied  and  careful  effort  to 
gain  in  physical  strength.  One  day  she  began  to  upbraid  him 
bitterly  for  his  disobedience,  but  he  interrupted  her  by  saying 
sternly, 

' '  Madam,  there  is  no  child  present  I  treat  you  with  re 
spect.  I  also  demand  respect." 

The  proud,  resolute  woman  admitted  to  herself  that  his 
management  was  becoming  a  difficult  and  dubious  problem, 
and  at  last,  discouraged  and  exasperated  by  the  unwavering 
steadfastness  of  his  course  and  manner,  she  wrote  that  they 
might  as  well  return  home,  for  ' '  he  was  beyond  her  influ 
ence.  ' ' 

Therefore,  thrilling  with  glad  expectation,  Arnold  found 
himself  in  his  native  city  much  sooner  than  he  had  expected. 
He  had  no  very  definite  plans.  If  he  could  only  become 
sufficiently  well  to  earn  his  own  livelihood  the  future  would 
be  comparatively  clear.  If  this  were  impossible,  his  best 
hope  was  to  wait,  secure  in  Mildred' s  faith,  for  the  chances  of 
the  future,  believing  that  his  father  might  relent  if  his  mother 
would  not.  For  this  event,  however,  the  outlook  was  un 
promising.  Mr.  Arnold  was  incensed  by  his  wife's  fuller 
account  of  his  son's  behavior,  and  the  proof  she  had  obtained, 
in  spite  of  his  precautions,  that  he  was  in  frequent  corre 
spondence  with  Mildred.  Mr.  Arnold  had  since  learned  the 
circumstances  of  Mr.  Jocelyn's  wretched  death,  and  that  Mil 
dred  was  but  a  sewing  girl,  living  with  an  ignorant  English 
woman  in  a  dilapidated  old  tenement,  and  his  bitter  revolt  at 


MOTHER  AND  SON.  503 

the  whole  affair  was  quite  natural  in  view  of  his  superficial 
inquiries  and  knowledge.  Both  he  and  his  wife  judged  from 
their  proud  and  worldly  standpoint  solely,  and  therefore 
on  the  day  following  Vinton's  arrival  they  summoned  him 
to  a  private  interview.  At  first  Mr.  Arnold  proposed  to  reason 
with  his  son,  but  the  cold,  unyielding  face  soon  so  irritated 
him  that  he  became  almost  violent  in  his  anger.  After  he 
and  his  mother  had  nearly  exhausted  themselves,  Vinton  said 
quietly, 

' '  Now  that  you  have  both  lectured  and  threatened  me  as 
if  I  were  a  boy,  I  would  like  to  ask  one  question.  Have  I 
ever  disgraced  you  yet  ?" 

The  husband  and  wife  looked  at  each  other,  and  were  not 
a  little  perplexed  how  to  meet  this  passive  resistance.  In 
the  same  low,  incisive  tones,  Vinton  continued,  ' '  If  you  pro 
pose  to  turn  me  into  the  streets  for  loving  Miss  Jocelyn,  do 
so  at  once,  for  I  do  love  her,  and  I  shall  ever  love  her." 

"  She  shall  not  touch  a  penny  of  our  money,"  said  Mrs. 
Arnold,  with  an  implacable  look. 

"  With  me,"  replied  her  son,  with  the  same  old  vindictive 
glance,  "  it  is  not  a  question  of  pennies,  but  of  life  and  death. 
I  feel  toward  Miss  Jocelyn  as  I  suppose  my  father  once  felt 
toward  you,  although  what  heart  you  had  to  win  I  cannot 
understand  from  your  manner  toward  me.  I  have  seen  con 
siderable  of  society,  but  have  never  met  a  woman  who  could 
compare  with  Mildred  Jocelyn  in  all  that  constitutes  a  true 
lady.  I  shall  not  waste  any  words  concerning  the  virtues  of 
her  heart  upon  such  unsympathetic  listeners,  but  I  am  at 
least  a  man  in  years,  and  have  the  right  to  love  her." 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Arnold  angrily,  "  there  is  no 
law  which  can  prevent  your  disgracing  yourself  and  us." 

' '  Nor  is  there  any  law  or  gospel,  madam,  for  your  un 
natural,  unsympathetic  course  toward  your  own  flesh  and 
blood.  Good-evening. ' ' 


504  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Now  you  see  how  strange  and  infatuated  he  has  be 
come,"  she  said  to  her  husband  alter  her  son's  departure  ; 
but  the  old  merchant  shook  his  head  in  trouble  and  per 
plexity. 

"  We  have  been  too  hard  upon  him,  I  fear,"  he  said. 

1 '  If  you  weaken  in  this  matter,  I  shall  not, ' '  she  answered 
decisively.  "If  he  gives  way  to  this  folly,  both  I  and  my 
children  will  disown  all  kith  and  kin." 

"Well,  well,"  he  replied  impatiently,  "  it  will  have  to 
be  so,  I  suppose  ;  but  nevertheless  I  believe  we  have  been 
too  hard  with  him." 


A  FA  TAL  ERROR.  5°S 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 

A  FATAL  ERROR. 

THE  next  morning  Arnold  started  out  to  visit  the  one 
rarely  absent  from  his  thoughts.  It  was  a  lovely  day 
in  the  latter  part  of  June,  and  his  heart  grew  glad  and  hope 
ful  in  spite  of  the  discouraging  conditions  of  his  lot  All 
the  world  could  not  prevent  his  loving  Mildred,  or  destroy 
her  faith,  and  at  some  time  and  in  some  way  they  would  at 
tain  their  happiness.  These  hopes  were  like  the  bright  sum 
mer  sun,  and  he  walked  with  a  firmer  and  more  elastic  tread 
than  he  had  ever  known  before. 

When  he  reached  the  haggard  old  mansion  his  heart  mis 
gave  him.  "  Can  it  be  reality,"  he  asked  himself,  "  that 
she  has  been  living  in  places  like  this  ?' '  and  the  half-defined 
fear  entered  his  mind  that  she  might  have  changed  somewhat 
with  her  fortunes,  and  might  no  longer  be  in  appearance  the 
delicate,  refined,  beautiful  girl  that  he  had  left  so  long  since. 
But  his  impatient  heart  gave  him  no  time  for  such  imaginings, 
and  he  hastened  to  gratify  his  intense  desire  to  look  upon 
her  face. 

In  response  to  a  low  knock  Mildred  opened  the  door,  and 
found  herself  in  the  arms  of  her  lover.  Then  he  held  her 
off  and  looked  at  her  earnestly.  "  Oh,  Millie  !"  he  ex 
claimed,  ' '  you  have  only  grown  more  beautiful,  more 
womanly  in  these  long,  weary  years.  Your  face  is  the  reflex 
of  the  letters  on  which  I  have  lived,  and  which  gave  me  the 
power  to  live. ' ' 


$o6  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Then  in  the  excess  of  his  joy  he  sank  into  a  chair,  and, 
putting  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  looked  very  pale.  She 
sprang  to  his  side  in  alarm.  "  Don't  worry,  Millie,"  he 
said,  taking  her  hand.  "  It's  passing.  I  don't  have  them 
very  often  now.  I'  m  much  better,  thanks  to  you.  Happi 
ness  rarely  kills. 

It  was  well  that  Mrs.  Wheaton  and  the  children  were  out 
This  scene  would  have  been  a  great  shock  to  the  good 
woman,  for  she  was  Roger's  ally,  heart  and  soul,  and  did 
not  even  know  of  Arnold's  existence.  Since  Arnold  and 
Mildred  were  so  fortunate  as  to  be  alone,  they  talked  frankly 
over  their  old  happy  days,  and  as  far  as  she  could  without 
breaking  her  promise  to  Roger,  Mildred  spoke  cf  the  deep 
sorrows  which  had  almost  overwhelmed  her  during  his  absence. 

"  How  my  heart  aches  for  you  !"  Arnold  said.  "  I  never 
realized  before  what  sad  experiences  you  have  passed  through. 
The  part  which  I  can' t  endure  is  that  I  have  been  of  no  help 
to  you.  On  the  contrary,  you  reached  out  this  little  hand  and 
saved  me.  Everything  has  been  just  the  opposite  of  what  it 
ought  to  have  been,  and  even  now  in  these  surroundings  you 
are  like  a  diamond  in  a  dust-heap.  Oh,  how  different  it 
would  all  be  if  I  had  my  way  !"  and  he  in  turn  told  her  quite 
frankly  how  he  was  situated. 

"  Vinton,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  you  must  do  all  in  your 
power  to  grow  strong  and  make  a  place  for  yourself  in  the 
world.  As  you  say,  I  cannot  punish  you  for  the  pride  and 
hostility  of  your  parents  ;  I  don't  think  of  them,  and  I  could 
never  take  any  favors  at  their  hands.  As  a  man  you  have  the 
right  to  choose  for  yourself,  and  can  do  so  while  maintaining 
the  umost  courtesy  and  respect  toward  your  family.  I  don't 
fear  poverty — I'm  used  to  it.  The  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to 
find  some  honest  work  that  won' t  tax  you  too  greatly,  and 
gain  strength  in  its  performance." 

' '  Oh,  Millie,  how  strong  and  true  you  are  !     I  will  take 


A  FATAL  ERROR.  5°7 

your  advice  in  this  as  in  all  respects.  But  we  shall  have  to 
wait  a  long  time,  I  fear.  I  have  so  little  knowledge  of  busi 
ness,  and  I  think  my  father,  influenced  by  my  mother,  will 
thwart  rather  than  help  me." 

"Very  well,  I  can  wait,"  she  answered  smilingly. 
"  Indeed  I'd  rather  wait." 

Now  that  her  happiness  seemed  assured,  however,  she 
sighed  over  Roger  so  often  and  remorsefully  that  at  last 
Arnold  said, 

"  You  have  some  trouble  on  your  mind,  Millie  ?" 

' '  You  must  not  expect  to  find  me  a  light-hearted  girl  any 
more,"  she  replied  evasively. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  as  he  clasped  her  closely  in  farewell, 
' '  my  every  waking  thought  shall  now  be  how  best  to  banish 
sighs  and  bring  smiles." 

That  evening,  while  they  were  out  for  a  walk,  Mildred 
said  to  Roger,  with  a  little  tremor  in  her  voice,  "  He's 
come. ' ' 

He  gave  her  a  swift  look,  and  then  he  turned  as  quickly 
away,  but  his  arm  grew  rigid  under  her  hand. 

' '  Don' t  fail  me,  Roger, ' '  she  pleaded. 

"  It's  unexpected — I  wasn't  prepared,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  and  then  he  was  silent.  He  felt  her  hand  trembling  so 
greatly  that  he  soon  mastered  himself  for  her  sake.  "  It's  all 
right,  Millie,"  he  said  heartily.  "  Be  just  as  happy  as  you 
can. ' ' 

' '  How  can  I  be  truly  happy  when  you  are  not  ?' '  she 
sighed. 

"  Bless  your  kind  heart  !  do  you  think  I  am  going  to 
stand  off  and  lower  at  your  happiness  like  a  black  cloud  ? 
Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  droop,  look  forlorn  and  de 
serted,  and.  heave  great  sighs  in  dark  corners?  By  all  the 
powers  !  if  I  were  capable  of  such  meanness  toward  you,  I'd 
whip  myself  worse  than  I  did  that  fellow  Bissel. ' ' 


508  WITHOUT  A    HOME. 

' '  Do  you  think  I'  11  feel  for  you  any  the  less  because  you ' 
are  so  good  and  brave  about  it  ?' ' 

"  Oh,  confound  it !"  he  said  impatiently,  "  you  must  not 
feel  too  much.  Spoiling  your  happiness  won't  do  me  any 
good  ;  it  would  just  make  me  savage." 

She  leaned  her  head  for  a  second  against  his  shoulder  and 
said,  "I'm  not  a  bit  afraid  of  you,  Roger. ' ' 

'There,  Millie,"  he  said  quietly,  "you  always  get  the 
better  of  the  old  Satan  in  me,  but  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I 
could  more  easily  tame  a  whole  menagerie  than  my  own 
nature.  Come  to  think  of  it,  it's  all  turning  out  for  the  best. 
To-morrow  I  go  home  on  quite  a  long  vacation.  Father  isn'  t 
very  well  this  summer,  and  I'  m  to  take  charge  of  the  harvest 
for  him." 

"  Isn't  this  plan  a  little  sudden  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Not  more  so  than  your  news,"  he  replied  grimly. 

"  Are  you  not  willing  to  meet  him  yet  ?" 

"  Not  quite.  After  a  few  weeks  in  the  fields  I  shall  come 
back  with  the  stoicism  and  appearance  of  a  wild  Indian. 
Come,  Millie,  I  said  I  wouldn't  fail  you,  nor  shall  I.  Leave 
it  all  to  me.  I  will  explain  to  Mrs.  Wheaton  to-night,  and  to 
our  other  friends  when  the  right  time  comes,  and  I  will  make 
it  appear  all  right  to  them.  If  I  justify  you,  they  should  have 
nothing  to  say.  And  now  you  have  nothing  to  do  but  ac 
cept  your  happiness  and  make  the  most  of  it.  I  still  request 
that  you  do  not  speak  of  me  to  Arnold  except  in  a  casual 
way.  When  we  meet  you  can  introduce  me  simply  as  a 
friend  who  was  kind  during  your  troubles.  I'  11  soon  know 
after  we  meet  whether  we  can  get  on  together,  and  if  wt 
can' t  it  will  save  complications  for  you  as  well  as  myself. 
You  must  let  me  serve  you  in  my  own  way,  and  I  think  my 
judgment  will  be  better  than  yours  in  this  matter." 

She  was  silent  for  a  few  moments,  and  by  the  light  of  a 
lamp  he  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  "  Roger,"  she 


A  FA  TAL  ERROR.  509 

said  softly  after  a  while,  ' '  I  sometimes  think  that  my  affec 
tion  for  you  is  greater  than  my  love  for  Vinton,  but  it  is  so 
different.  It  seems  almost  like  my  religion.  You  are  a 
refuge  for  me,  no  matter  what  happens. ' ' 

"  Thank  you,  Millie,  but  I  don't  deserve  such  honor." 

Mrs.  Wheaton  could  not  be  brought  to  look  at  the  situ 
ation  as  Roger  did,  and  she  accepted  the  fact  of  Vinton 
Arnold  with  but  a  grim  acquiescence,  which  was  not  mollified 
by  the  young  man's  manner  toward  her.  While  meaning  to 
be  very  kind  and  polite,  he  was  unconsciously  patronizing. 
She  belonged  to  a  class  with  which  he  had  never  had  much 
to  do,  and  in  his  secret  soul  he  chafed  at  her  presence  and 
her  relations  to  Mildred.  While  in  the  abstract  he  might 
say  that  Mildred's  associations  made  no  difference  to  him, 
he  could  not  in  fact  overcome  his  lifelong  prejudices,  and 
Mildred's  surroundings  were  not  at  all  to  his  taste.  Luxury 
and  the  absence  of  all  that  was  rude  and  coarse  had  become 
essential  to  him,  and  Mrs.  Wheaton' s  cockney  English  and 
homely  life  often  gave  him  cold  chills. 

Mildred  in  one  respect  disappointed  him  also,  for  she 
would  take  ho  aid  from  him,  and  would  in  no  way  deviate 
from  her  retired,  independent  life.  "  Even  if  my  feelings 
and  principles  were  not  involved,"  she  said,  "  good  taste 
requires  that  I  conform  to  my  circumstances." 

She  would  take  such  quiet  walks  with  him  as  his  strength 
permitted,  but  would  visit  no  places  of  public  resort.  In 
view  of  his  family's  hostility  to  his  course,  Arnold  did  not  so 
much  regret  this,  and  so  it  came  about  that  they  spent  many 
of  their  evenings  on  the  platform  over  the  roof,  with  the  old 
German  astronomer,  star-gazing  and  oblivious,  not  far  away. 

While  Mildred  maintained  her  loyalty  to  her  old  friends, 
and  her  resolute  plainness  and  simplicity  of  life,  she  consid 
erately  recognized  that  it  was  all  so  foreign  to  her  lover's  pre 
vious  experience  that  she  could  not  expect  him  to  feel  as  she 


Sio  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

did.  Moreover,  his  presence  renewed  her  old  love  for  the  re 
fined  and  beautiful,  and  her  heart,  that  had  been  so  sad  and 
preoccupied,  awoke  at  last  to  the  truth  that  she  was  out  of 
her  sphere — an  exile  far  from  the  world  her  nature  craved. 
Arnold  seemed  an  inseparable  part  of  that  old  world  of  beauty 
and  elegance.  His  every  act  and  word  brought  it  back,  and 
it  caused  a  deepening  regret  that  he  was  compelled  to  seek 
her  in  her  present  situation  ;  therefore  she  also  began  to 
share  his  ill-concealed  wish  that  she  might  soon  escape. 
Honestly  as  she  loved  Mrs.  Wheaton,  and  would  love  her 
for  all  her  kindness,  the  good  woman's  talk  and  ways  often 
jarred  discordantly  on  her  nerves.  Arnold  soon  discovered 
this  fact,  and  it  made  him  very  impatient  over  the  prospect 
of  life  long  continued  under  its  present  aspects.  He  was 
conscious  of  Mrs.  Wheaton' s  latent  hostility,  and  he  had 
not  the  tact  to  conciliate  her,  nor  indeed  did  he  make  very 
great  effort  to  do  so.  Mildred  was  very  sorry  for  this,  but 
did  not  blame  him  greatly,  for  she  knew  her  plain  old  friend 
could  never  be  to  him  what  she  was  to  those  who  had  learned 
her  goodness  and  worth  in  emergencies  that  had  levelled  all 
external  differences.  • 

But  in  spite  of  the  ingredients  brought  by  these  facts  and 
the  memories  of  the  past,  Mildred  found  the  cup  of  happi 
ness  which  Arnold  pressed  to  her  lips  sweet  indeed.  She  had 
been  exceedingly  sorrowful  for  a  long  time,  and  it  is  contrary 
to  nature  that  the  young  should  cling  to  sorrow,  however 
true  and  constant  they  may  be.  Her  love  was  a  part  of 
her  happy  girlhood,  and  now  it  seemed  to  have  the  power  to 
bring  back  some  of  her  former  girlish  lightness  of  heart. 
The  prospects  offered  by  Arnold  certainly  had  little  to  do 
with  the  returning  tide  of  gladness  which  seemed  bearing  her 
from  the  dark,  rugged  shores  on  which  she  had  been  nearly 
wrecked.  It  was  a  buoyancy  inherent  within  the  love  she 
cherished,  and  her  joy  was  so  sweet,  so  profound,  that  she 


A  FATAL  ERROR.    -  S11 

shut  her  eyes  to  the  future  and  thought,  "  For  a  few  days, 
for  a  few  weeks,  we'll  just  drink  deeply  at  this  life-giving 
fountain.  After  our  long  separation  it  will  do  us  both  more 
good  than  anything  else. ' ' 

She  had  said  to  Arnold  that  she  was  willing  to  wait,  that 
she  would  rather  wait,  but  she  soon  began  to  feel  differently. 
Arnold  infused  into  her  nature  some  of  his  own  dreamy,  en 
ervated  spirit,  and  sometimes  he  would  describe  to  her  an 
imaginary  home  so  exactly  to  her  taste  that  she  would  sigh 
deeply  ;  and  one  day  she  remonstrated,  ' '  Don' t  tantalize  me 
with  any  more  such  exquisite  mirages.  Let  us  rather  think 
of  the  best  and  quickest  way  to  secure  a  real  home,  and  let 
us  be  content  in  it,  however  humble  it  must  be."  But 
Arnold  was  far  better  able  to  construct  an  imaginary  palace 
than  an  ordinary  cottage.  Although  he  seemed  gaining 
steadily  under  the  impulse  of  his  happiness,  she  often  trem 
bled  to  see  how  frail  he  was  in  body  and  how  untrained  and 
impracticable  in  mind.  He  was  essentially  the  product  of 
wealth,  luxury,  and  seclusion,  and  while  his  intentions  might 
be  the  best,  she  was  sometimes  compelled  to  doubt  his  ability 
to  make  much  headway  in  the  practical,  indifferent  world. 
Instead  of  being  discouraged,  she  only  thought,  "  No  one 
can  ever  doubt  the  genuineness  of  my  love.  Roger  is  rich 
already,  and  he  is  certain  to  become  eminent,  and  yet  my  love 
is  more  than  all  the  world  to  me,  and  I  so  long  for  a  little 
nook  of  a  home  that  I  could  call  all  my  own,  that  I  would 
be  willing  to  marry  Vinton  at  once  and  support  him  myself 
if  his  health  required  it.  I  don't  think  I  can  be  like  other 
girls.  I  shall  never  get  over  my  pride,  but  I  haven' t  a  par 
ticle  of  ambition.  The  world  at  large  is  nothing  to  me,  and 
instead  of  wishing  to  shine  in  it,  I  am  best  pleased  to  escape 
its  notice  altogether." 

Arnold's  family  were  as  deeply  perplexed  as  they  were  in 
censed  at  his  course.  He  would  not  leave  the  city  for  any 


512  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

fashionable  resort,  and  they  well  knew  the  reason.  His 
father  and  mother  hesitated  in  their  departure,  not  knowing 
what  "  folly,"  as  they  termed  it,  he  might  be  guilty  of  in 
their  absence.  They  felt  that  they  must  bring  the  matter  to 
some  issue,  and  yet  how  to  do  so  puzzled  them  greatly,  for, 
as  he  had  said,  he  had  done  nothing  as  yet  to  disgrace  them, 
and  his  bearing  toward  them  was  as  irreproachable  as  it  was 
cold  and  dignified. 

At  last,  unknown  to  them,  an  elder  brother  undertook  to 
solve  the  problem.  He  was  a  thorough  man  of  the  world, 
and  his  scrupulous  compliance  with  the  requirements  of  fash 
ionable  society  led  his  mother  to  regard  him  as  a  model  of 
propriety.  In  his  private,  hidden  life  he  was  as  unscrupulous 
as  the  ultra  fashionable  often  are. 

Vinton, ' '  he  said  one  day,  ' '  what  a  fool  you  are  mak 
ing  of  yourself  in  this  affair  !  You  have  been  brought  up 
like  a  girl,  and  you  are  more  simple  and  innocent  than  they 
average.  I've  seen  your  charmer,  and  I  admit  that  she  is  a 
fine  creature.  As  far  as  looks  go,  you  show  as  much  judg 
ment  as  any  man  in  town,  but  there  your  wits  desert  you. 
Girls  in  her  position  are  not  nice  as  to  terms  when  they  can 
greatly  better  themselves.  You  have  money  enough  to  lodge 
her  like  a  princess  compared  with  her  present  condition. 
Verbum  sat  sapienti. ' ' 

Vinton  replied  indignantly  that  he  knew  nothing  about 
Mildred. 

"  Oh,  I  know  all  about  women,  "  was  the  confident  reply  ; 
"  have  forgotten  more  than  you  ever  knew." 

Nevertheless  this  thought,  like  an  evil  seed,  sprang  up  into 
a  speedy  but  not  rank  growth.  Arnold  saw  that  his  family 
would  regard  his  marriage  as  an  outrage  which  they  would 
resent  in  ever}'  possible  way,  and  that  their  hostility  now  was 
but  an  ill-concealed,  smouldering  fire.  The  relation  to  him 
would  not  be  what  his  brother  suggested,  but  as  sacred  and 


A  FATAL  ERROR.  5X3 

binding  as  marriage.  His  unhealthful  reading,  his  long 
years  abroad,  and  the  radical  weakness  of  his  nature  prepared 
him  to  accept  this  solution  as  the  easiest  and  best  that  cir 
cumstances  permitted  of.  He  justly  doubted  whether  he 
would  soon,  if  ever,  gain  the  power  of  being  independent. 
He  knew  nothing  of  business,  and  hated  its  turmoil  and  dis 
tractions,  and  while  for  Mildred's  sake  he  would  attempt  any 
thing  and  suffer  anything,  he  had  all  the  unconquerable 
shrinking  from  a  manful  push  out  into  the  world  which  a 
timid  man  feels  at  the  prospect  of  a  battle.  He  had  been 
systematically  trained  into  weakness,  and  he  felt  that  men, 
when  he  came  to  compete  with  them,  would  discover  and 
take  advantage  of  his  defects.  His  cold,  haughty  reticence 
was  but  disguised  timidity.  In  Mildred's  presence  he  even 
showed  the  best  side  of  his  nature,  and  his  lonely,  repressed 
life  had  always  touched  the  tenderest  chords  of  her  heart. 
If  their  love  had  been  smiled  upon  from  the  first,  how  differ 
ent  would  have  been  his  fate  !  She  would  have  tenderly 
developed  his  dwarfed,  crushed  manhood,  and  the  result 
would  have  been  happiness  for  them  both. 

"  Millie,"  said  Arnold,  one  starlit  night,  "do  you  care 
very  much  for  the  world's  opinions?"  They  were  sitting 
on  the  platform  above  the  old  mansion.  The  German  as 
tronomer,  after  grumbling  a  while  at  an  obscuring  haze,  had 
gone  down-stairs  in  disgust,  and  left  the  lovers  to  themselves. 

' '  No,  Vinton,  I  never  cared  much  for  the  world  at  any 
time,  and  now  I  have  an  almost  morbid  impulse  to  shrink 
from  it  altogether.  I'  m  like  my  dear  mamma.  Home  was 
her  world.  Poor,  dear  mamma  !"  and  she  buried  her  face 
on  his  shoulder  and  shed  tears  that  his  presence  robbed  of 
much  of  their  bitterness. 

' '  I  not  only  do  not  care  for  the  world, ' '  he  said  impetu 
ously,  ' '  but  I  hate  it  I'  ve  been  dragged  through  it,  and 
have  ever  found  it  a  desert,  stony  place.  My  heart  just  aches 


5M  WI THO  UT  A    HOME. 

for  the  sweet  quiet  and  seclusion  of  such  a  home  as  you  could 
make,  Millie.  As  it  is,  I  have  no  home.  A  hollow  iceberg 
could  not  be  more  cold  and  joyless  than  my  present  abode. 
Neither  have  you  a  home.  It  is  only  in  stolen  moments 
like  these,  liable  to  interruption,  that  we  can  speak  of  what 
is  in  our  hearts ;"  and  then,  prompted  by  his  feelings,  long 
ings,  and  the  apparently  friendless  condition  of  the  girl  whose 
head  rested  so  trustingly  on  his  breast,  he  broached  the 
scheme  of  life  that  had  taken  possession  of  his  imagination. 

At  first,  in  her  faith  and  innocence  she  scarcely  understood 
him,  but  suddenly  she  raised  her  head,  and  looked  at  him 
with  startled  eyes.  "  What !"  she  said,  in  trembling  alarm, 
"no  marriage?  Mr.  Wentworth  and  Roger  Atwood  not 
present  ?' ' 

"  No  minister  could  make  our  union  more  sacred  than  it 
would  be  to  me,"  he  faltered,  "  and  as  soon  as  my  obdurate 
parents — ' ' 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  exclaimed  passionately,  "I'd 
rather  die  ten  thousand  deaths  than  bring  a  blush  of  shame 
to  Roger  Atwood' s  face."  Then  she  sank  into  her  chair  in 
an  uncontrollable  outburst  of  grief.  He  pleaded  with  her, 
but  she  was  deaf ;  he  tried  to  caress  her,  but,  although  half 
unconscious  from  her  agony,  she  repulsed  him.  "  Oh,  oh," 
she  moaned,  ' '  is  this  the  sole  reward  of  my  fidelity  ?' ' 

"  Millie,  Millie,"  he  entreated,  "  you  will  kill  me  if  you 
cannot  control  yourself.  I  will  do  anything  you  say — sub 
mit  to  any  terms.  Oh,  pity  me,  or  I  shall  die." 

"  Leave  me,"  she  said  faintly. 

Never, ' '  he  cried  ;  "I'd  sooner  cast  myself  down  from 
this  height." 

By  visible  and  painful  effort  she  at  last  grew  calm  enough 
to  say  firmly, 

"  Mr.  Arnold,  I  do  pity  you.  Even  at  this  moment  I 
will  try  to  do  you  justice.  My  heart  seems  broken,  and  yet 


A  FATAL  ERROR.  5l5 

I  fear  you  will  suffer  more  than  I.  My  own  womanhood 
would  make  your  words  the  sufficient  cause  for  our  final 
separation,  and  had  I  not  a  friend  in  the  world  we  could 
never  meet  again.  But  I  have  a  friend,  a  brother  to  whom 
I  owe  more  than  life,  and  whom  I  love  better  than  life.  He 
would  have  made  me  rich  if  I  would  have  let  him,  but  I  loved 
you  too  well.  Not  for  my  hope  of  heaven  would  I  make 
him  blush  for  me.  I  would  have  married  you  and  lived  in 
a  single  room  in  a  tenement.  I  would  have  supported  you 
with  my  own  hands.  The  weaknesses  for  which  you  were 
not  to  blame  drew  my  heart  toward  you,  but  you  have  shown 
a  defect  in  your  character  to-night  which  creates  an  impass 
able  gulf  between  us.  In  view  of  the  wrong  done  you  by 
others  I  forgive  you — I  shall  pray  God  to  forgive  you — but 
we  have  fatally  misunderstood  each  other.  If  you  have  any 
manhood  at  all,  if  you  have  the  ordinary  instincts  of  a  gen 
tleman,  you  will  respect  the  commands  of  an  orphan  girl,  and 
leave  me,  never  to  approach  me  again. ' ' 

Speechless,  almost  paralyzed  in  his  despair,  he  tottered  to 
the  steps  and  disappeared. 


5 16  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 

LIGHT    AT    EVENTIDE. 

AS  Mrs.  Wheaton  crossed  the  hallway  from  a  brief  call 
on  a  neighbor,  Vinton  Arnold  passed  her.  She  noted 
by  the  light  of  the  lamp  in  her  hand  that  his  pallor  was 
ghostlike,  and  she  asked  quickly, 

"  Vere  is  Miss  Jocelyn  ?" 

He  paid  no  more  heed  to  her  than  if  he  were  a  shadow  of 
a  man,  and  went  by  her  with  wavering,  uncertain  steps,  with 
out  a  word.  In  sudden  alarm  she  hastened  to  the  roof,  and 
found  Mildred  kneeling  by  her  chair,  weeping  and  almost 
speechless  from  grief.  She  took  the  girl  in  her  arms,  and 
said  excitedly,  "  Vat  did  he  say  to  you  ?" 

"  Oh,"  sobbed  Mildred,  "  my  heart  is  broken  at  last.  I 
feel  as  mamma  did  when  she  said  her  heart  was  bleeding 
away.  Mrs.  Wheaton,  I  shall  stay  with  you  now  as  long  as 
I  live,  and  it  seems  as  if  it  wouldn't  be  very  long.  Never 
speak  of  him  again — never  speak  of  it  to  a  living  soul.  He 
asked  that  which  would  banish  you  and  Roger — dear,  brave, 
patient  Roger — from  my  side  forever,  and  I  will  never  see 
his  face  again.  Oh,  oh,  I  wish  I  could  die  !" 

"  I'm  a  plain  voman,"  Mrs.  Wheaton  said  grimly,  "  but! 
took  the  measure  of  '  im  soon  as  I  clapped  my  heyes  on  '  im  ; 
but  Millie,  me  darlin' ,  you  couldn'  t  be  so  cruel  as  to  break 
hour  'earts  by  dying  for  sich  a  man.  You  vould  make  the 
vorld  black  for  us  hall,  yer  know.  Come,  dear,  come  vith 
me.  I'll  take  care  hof  yer.  I'm  not  fine  like  'im  that's 


LIGHT  AT  E VENTIDE.  5 1 7 

gone,  thank  the  Lord,  but  I'll  never  ax  ye  to  do  haught  that 
Mr.  Ventvorth  vouldn't  bless,"  and  she  half  supported  the 
exhausted,  trembling  girl  to  her  room,  and  there  was  ten 
der  and  tireless  in  her  ministrations.  In  the  early  dawn, 
when  at  last  Mildred  slept  for  an  hour  or  two,  she  wrote,  in  a 
half-legible  scrawl,  to  Roger,  ' '  Come  back.  Millie  wants 
you. ' ' 

His  presence  in  response  was  prompt  indeed.  On  the 
second  morning  after  the  events  described,  Mildred  sat  in  her 
chair  leaning  back  with  closed  eyes.  Mrs.  Wheaton  was 
away  at  work,  and  her  eldest  daughter  was  watching  the  little 
brood  of  children  on  the  sidewalk.  A  decided  knock  at  the 
door  caused  the  young  girl  to  start  up  with  apprehension. 
She  was  so  nervously  prostrated  that  she  trembled  like  a 
leaf.  At  last  she  summoned  courage  and  opened  the  door 
slightly,  and  when  she  saw  Roger's  sunburnt,  honest  face  she 
welcomed  him  as  if  he  were  a  brother  indeed. 

He  placed  her  gently  in  her  chair  again,  and  said,  with  a 
keen  look  into  her  eyes,  "  How  is  this,  Millie  ?  I  left  you 
happy  and  even  blooming,  and  now  you  appear  more  pale 
and  broken  than  ever  before.  You  look  as  if  you  had  been 
seriously  ill.  Oh,  Millie,  that  couldn't  be,  and  you  not  let 

me  know,"  and  he  clasped  her  hand  tightly  as  he  spoke. 
She  buried  her  burning  face  on  his  shoulder,  and  said,  in 

a  low,  constrained  tone,  "  Roger,  I've  told  Mr.  Arnold  this 

much  about  you — I  said  I'd  die  ten  thousand  deaths  rather 

than  cause  you  to  blush  for  me." 

He  started  as  if  he  had  bee'n  shot.      "  Great  God  !"  he 

exclaimed,  ' '  and  did  he  ask  you  aught  that  would  make 

you  blush  ?" 

Bitter  tears  were  Mildred's  only  answer. 

The  young  man's  passion  for  a  few  moments  was  terrible, 

but  Mildred's  pallid  face  soon  calmed  him.      "  You  could 

not  harm  him,"  she  said  sadly.      "  What  is  one  blow  more 


Si 8  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 

to  a  man  who  is  in  torture  ?  I  pity  him  from  the  depths  of 
my  soul,  and  you  must  promise  me  to  let  him  alone.  Never 
for  a  moment  did  I  forget  that  you  were  my  brother. ' ' 

In  strong  revulsion  of  feeling  he  bent  one  knee  at  her  side 
and  pleaded,  "  Oh,  Millie,  give  me  the  right  to  protect  you. 
I'll  wait  for  you  till  I'm  gray.  I'll  take  what  love  you  can 
give  me.  I'll  be  devotion  itself." 

"  Don' t,  Roger,"  she  said  wearily.  "  I  love  you  too  well 
to  listen.  Such  words  only  wound  me.  Oh,  Roger,  be 
patient  with  me.  You  don't  understand,  you  never  will  un 
derstand.  I  do  give  you  the  right  to  protect  me  ;  but  don' t 
talk  that  way  again.  I  just  long  for  rest  and  peace.  Roger, 
my  friend,  my  brother,"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyes  appealingly 
to  his,  and  giving  him  both  of  her  hands,  "  don't  you  see  ? 
I  can  give  you  everything  in  this  way,  but  in  the  way  you 
speak  of — nothing.  My  heart  is  as  dead  as  poor  Belle's." 
.  "  Your  wish  shall  be  my  law,"  he  said  gently. 

"  And  you'll  not  harm  Mr.  Arnold  ?" 

"  Not  if  it  will  hurt  you." 

"  I  never  wish  to  see  or  hear  from  him  again,  and  you'll 
never  have  cause  to  fear  any  one  else." 

".Millie,"  he  said  sadly,  "  it  is  for  you  I  fear  most.  You 
look  so  sad,  pale,  and  broken-hearted.  There  isn't  a  sacri 
fice  I  wouldn't  make  for  you.  Millie,  you  won't  let  this 
thing  crush  you  ?  It  would  destroy  me  if  you  did.  We  will 
resume  our  old  quiet  life,  and  you  shall  have  rest  of  body 
and  soul ;"  and  he  kept  his  word  so  well  that,  before  many 
months  passed,  her  mind  regained  sufficient  tone  and 
strength  to  enable  her  to  engage  in  the  simple  duties  of  life 
with  something  like  zest.  He  talked  to  her  about  many  of 
his  studies,  he  searched  the  stores  for  the  books  which  he 
thought  would  be  to  her  taste,  and  took  her  to  see  every 
beautiful  work  of  art  on  exhibition.  In  spite  of  her  poverty, 
he  daily  made  her  life  richer  and  fuller  of  all  that  he  knew 


LIGH T  AT  E VEN TIDE.  519 

to  be  congenial  to  her  nature.  While  she  gained  in  serenity 
and  in  capability  for  quiet  enjoyment,  he  was  positively 
happy,  for  he  believed  that  before  many  years  passed  she 
would  be  ready  to  spend  the  rest  of  life  at  his  side.  He 
meantime  was  pursuing  his  studies  with  a  vigor  and  success 
that  inspired  his  friends  with  the  most  sanguine  hopes. 

Vinton  Arnold,  on  that  terrible  night  when  his  false  dream 
of  life  was  shattered,  went  through  the  streets  as  oppressed 
with  shame  and  despair  as  if  he  were  a  lost  spirit.  As  he 
was  slowly  and  weakly  climbing  the  stairs  his  father  called 
him  to  the  sitting-room,  where  he  and  his  wife  were  in  con 
sultation,  feeling  that  matters  must  be  brought  to  some  kind 
of  a  settlement,  Mrs.  Arnold  urging  extreme  measures,  and 
her  husband  bent  on  some  kind  of  compromise.  As  his 
son  entered,  the  old  gentleman  started  up,  exclaiming, 

"  Good  God,  my  boy,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  He's  going  to  have  one  of  his  bad  turns,"  said  his 
mother,  rising  hastily. 

"  Hush,  both  of  you,"  he  commanded  sternly,  and  he  sat 
down  near  the  door.  Fixing  a  look  of  concentrated  hatred 
on  his  mother,  he  said  slowly,  "  Madam,  you  are  not  will 
ing  that  I  should  marry  Mildred  Jocelyn." 

"And  with  very  good  reason,"  she  replied,  a  little  con 
fused  by  his  manner. 

"  Well,  let  it  rejoice  such  heart  as  you  have — I  shall  never 
marry  her." 

' '  What  do  you  mean  ?' ' 

' '  I  mean  never  to  speak  to  you  again  after  this  brief  inter 
view.  I  am  a  lost  man — lost  beyond  hope,  and  you  are  the 
cause.  If  you  had  had  a  mother's  heart  my  father  would  not 
have  been  so  obdurate.  Since  you  would  not  let  me  marry 
her,  I  was  tempted  by  my  love  and  the  horrible  life  I  lead  in 
this  house  to  offer  her  a  relation  which  would  have  been  mar 
riage  to  me,  but  from  which  her  proud,  pure  spirit  recoiled,  as 


520  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

I  recoil  from  you,  and  I  shall  never  see  her  face  again  in  this 
world  or  in  any  world.  Your  work  is  finished.  You  need 
not  scheme  or  threaten  any  more.  While  she  is  as  good  as 
an  angel  of  heaven,  she  is  as  proud  as  you  are,  and  you  have 
murdered  my  hope — my  soul.  Father,  I  have  but  one  re 
quest  to  make  to  you.  Give  me  money  enough  to  live  any 
where  except  under  this  roof.  No,  no  more  words  to-night, 
unless  you  would  have  me  die  in  your  presence  with  curses 
on  my  lips.  I  have  reached  the  utmost  limit ;"  and  he 
abruptly  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Arnold  took  refuge  in  hysterics,  and  her  husband 
rang  violently  for  her  maid,  and  then  locked  himself  up  in 
his  library,  where  he  walked  the  floor  for  many  an  hour. 
The  next  morning  he  tried  to  make  overtures  to  his  son,  but 
he  found  the  young  man  deaf  and  stony  in  his  despair. 
"  It's  too  late,"  was  all  that  he  would  say. 

"  Oh,  let  him  alone,"  protested  his  wife  irritably,  as  her 
husband  came  down  looking  sorely  troubled  ;  "  Vinton  will 
indulge  in  high  tragedy  for  a  few  months,  and  then  settle 
down  to  sensible  life,"  and  in  the  hope  of  this  solution  the 
old  merchant  went  gloomily  to  his  business. 

That  day  Vinton  Arnold  left  his  home,  and  it  was  years 
before  he  returned. 

Two  years  or  more  passed  away  in  quiet,  toilsome  days  for 
Mildred.  She  had  gained  serenity,  and  apparently  had  ac 
cepted  her  lot  without  repining.  Indeed,  thanks  to  Roger's 
unfaltering  devotion,  it  was  not  a  monotonous  or  a  sad  one. 
He  let  her  heart  rest,  hoping,  trusting  that  some  day  it 
would  wake  from  its  sleep.  In  compliance  with  her  wish 
he  was  in  semblance  a  brother,  and  his  attentions  were  so 
quiet  and  frank,  his  manner  toward  her  so  restful,  that  even 
she  half  believed  at  times  that  his  regard  for  her  was  passing 
into  the  quiet  and  equable  glow  of  fraternal  love.  Such 
coveted  illusions  could  not  be  long  maintained,  however,  for 


LIGHT  AT  E  V EN  TIDE.  521 

occasionally  when  he  was  off  his  guard  she  would  find  him 
looking  at  her  in  a  way  that  revealed  how  much  he  repressed. 
She  shed  many  bitter  tears  over  what  she  termed  his  <l  ob 
stinate  love,"  but  an  almost  morbid  conviction  had  gained 
possession  of  her  mind  that  unless  she  could  return  his 
affection  in  kind  and  degree  she  ought  not  to  marry  him. 

At  last  she  began  to  grow  a  little  restless  under  her  rather 
aimless  life,  and  one  day  she  said  to  her  pastor,  Mr.  Went- 
worth,  "  I  want  a  career — isn't  that  what  you  call  it?  I'm 
tired  of  being  a  sewing- woman,  and  soon  I  shall  be  a 
wrinkled  spinster.  Isn't  there  something  retired  and  quiet 
which  a  girl  with  no  more  brains  and  knowledge  than  I  have 
can  do  ?' ' 

' '  Yes, ' '  he  said  gravely  ;  ' '  make  a  home  for  Roger. ' ' 

She  shook  her  head.  "  That  is  the  only  thing  I  can't  do 
for  him,"  she  replied  very  sadly.  "  God  only  knows  how 
truly  I  love  him.  I  could  give  him  my  life,  but  not  the 
heart  of  a  wife.  I  have  lost  everything  except  truth  to  my 
womanly  nature.  I  must  keep  that.  Moreover,  I'm  too 
good  a  friend  of  Roger's  to  marry  him.  He  deserves  the 
strong  first  love  of  a  noble  woman,  and  it  will  come  to  him 
some  day.  Do  you  think  I  could  stand  before  you  and 
God's  altar  and  promise  what  is  impossible?  No,  Mr. 
Wentworth,  Roger  has  a  strength  and  force  of  character 
which  will  carry  him  past  all  this,  and  when  once  he  sees  I 
have  found  a  calling  to  which  I  can  devote  all  my  energies, 
he  will  gradually  become  reconciled  to  the  truth,  and  finally 
accept  a  richer  happiness  than  I  could  ever  bring  him." 

"  You  are  an  odd  girl,  Mildred,  but  perhaps  you  are 
right.  I've  learned  to  have  great  faith  in  you.  Well,  I 
know  of  a  career  which  possibly  may  suit  you.  It  would 
open  an  almost  limitless  field  of  usefulness,"  and  he  told  her 
of  the  Training  School  for  Nurses  in  connection  with  Belle- 
vue  Hospital. 


522  WITHOUT  A  HOME, 

The  proposition  took  Mildred's  fancy  greatly,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  they  should  visit  the  institution  on  the  follow 
ing  afternoon.  Roger  sighed  when  he  heard  of  the  project, 
but  only  remarked  patiently,  ' '  Anything  you  wish,  Millie. ' ' 

"  Dear  old  fellow, "  she  thought ;  "  he  doesn't  know  I'm 
thinking  of  him  more  than  myself. ' ' 

Mildred  made  her  friend  Clara  Wilson  and  her  brother  and 
sister  a  long  visit  the  following  summer,  and  in  the  fall 
entered  on  her  duties,  her  zest  greatly  increased  by  the  pros 
pect  of  being  able  before  very  long  to  earn  enough  to  give 
Fred  and  Minnie  a  good  education.  The  first  year  of  her 
training  passed  uneventfully  away,  she  bringing  to  her  tasks 
genuine  sympathy  for  suffering,  and  unusual  aptness  and 
ability.  Her  own  sorrowful  experience  made  her  tender 
toward  the  unfortunate  ones  for  whom  she  cared,  and  her 
words  and  manner  brought  balm  and  healing  to  many  sad 
hearts  that  were  far  beyond  the  skill  of  the  hospital  surgeons. 

During  the  first  half  of  the  second  year,  in  accordance  with 
the  custom  of  the  School,  she  responded  to  calls  from 
wealthy  families  wherein  there  were  cases  of  such  serious 
illness  as  to  require  the  services  of  a  trained  nurse,  and  in 
each  instance  she  so  won  the  confidence  of  the  attending  phy 
sician  and  the  affection  of  the  family  as  to  make  them  per 
sonal  friends.  Her  beautiful  face  often  attracted  to  her  not 
a  little  attention,  but  she  was  found  to  be  as  unapproachable 
as  a  Sister  of  Charity.  Roger  patiently  waited,  and  filled  the 
long  months  with  unremitting  toil. 

One  evening  toward  the  latter  part  of  the  first  six  months 
of  her  outside  work,  Mildred  returned  from  nursing  a  patient 
back  to  health.  She  found  the  lady  in  charge  of  the  institu 
tion  in  much  tribulation.  "  Here  is  Mrs.  Sheppard,  from 
one  of  the  most  influential  families  on  Fifth  Avenue,  offering 
anything  for  a  nurse.  Her  brother  is  dying  with  consump 
tion,  she  says.  He  has  a  valet  in  attendance,  but  the  phy- 


LIGHT  AT  E VENTIDE.  523 

sician  in  charge  says  he  needs  a  trained  nurse,  for  he  wants 
constant  watching.  He  is  liable  to  die  at  any  moment.  We 
haven't  a  nurse  unemployed.  Do  you  feel  too  tired  to  go  ?" 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Mildred.  "  My  patient  improved  so 
much  that  for  the  last  week  I've  almost  been  resting." 

' '  And  you  think  you  can  go  ?' ' 

"  Certainly." 

"  I'll  tell  Mrs.  Sheppard  then  to  send  for  you  in  a  couple 
of  hours.  That  will  give  you  time  to  get  ready." 

Two  hours  later  Mildred  was  driven  rapidly  by  a  coachman 
in  livery  to  a  mansion  on  Fifth  Avenue,  and  she  was  speedily 
ushered  into  the  room  where  the  patient  lay.  He  was  sleep 
ing  at  the  time,  with  curtains  drawn  and  his  face  turned  away. 
Mildred  only  glanced  at  him  sufficiently  to  see  that  he  was 
very  much  emaciated.  A  middle-aged  lady  who  introduced 
herself  as  Mrs.  Sheppard  received  her,  saying,  "  I'm  so  glad 
you  are  here,  for  I  am  overcome  with  fatigue.  Last  night 
he  was  very  restless  and  ill,  and  would  have  no  one  near  him 
except  myself.  His  valet  is  in  that  room  just  across  the  hall, 
and  will  come  at  the  slightest  summons.  Now  while  my 
brother  is  sleeping  I  will  rest  at  once.  My  room  is  here, 
opening  into  this.  Call  me  if  there  is  need,  and  don't  mind 
if  he  talks  strangely.  Your  room  is  there,  just  beyond  this 
one,'  and  with  a  few  directions,  given  with  the  air  of  extreme 
weariness,  she  passed  to  her  own  apartment,  and  was  soon 
sleeping  soundly. 

Mildred  sat  down  in  the  dim  room  where  the  light  fell 
upon  her  pure,  sweet  profile,  which  was  made  a  little  more 
distinctly  the  flickering  of  the  cannel-coal  fire,  and  began 
one  of  the  quiet  watches  to  which  she  was  becoming  so  ac 
customed.  Her  thoughts  were  very  painful  at  first,  for  they 
seemed  strangely  inclined  to  dwell  on  Vinton  Arnold.  From 
the  time  they  parted  she  had  heard  nothing  of  him,  and  since 
the  brief  explanation  that  she  had  been  compelled  to  give  to 


524  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

Roger,  his  name  had  not  passed  her  lips.  He  had  been 
worse  than  dead  to  her,  and  she  wondered  if  he  were  dead. 
She  had  never  cherished  any  vindictive  feelings  toward  him, 
and  even  now  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  of  commiseration  for 
his  wronged  and  wretched  life.  Then  by  a  conscious  effort 
she  turned  her  thoughts  to  the  friend  who  had  never  failed 
her.  "  Dear  Roger,"  she  murmured,  "  he  didn't  appear 
well  the  last  time  I  saw  him.  He  is  beginning  to  look  worn 
and  thin.  I  know  he  is  studying  too  hard.  Oh,  I  wish  my 
heart  were  not  so  perverse,  for  he  needs  some  one  to  take 
care  of  him.  He  can't  change  ;  he  doesn't  get  over  it  as  I 
hoped  he  would,"  and  her  eyes,  bent  on  the  fire,  grew 
dreamy  and  wistful. 

Unknown  to  herself,  she  was  watched  by  one  who  scarcely 
dared  to  breathe  lest  what  seemed  a  vision  should  vanish. 
The  dying  man  was  Vinton  Arnold.  His  married  sister, 
overcome  by  weariness  and  the  stupor  of  sleep,  had  in 
advertently  forgotten  to  mention  his  name,  and  Mildred  was 
under  the  impression  that  the  name  of  her  patient  was  Shep- 
pard.  She  had  never  been  within  the  Arnold  mansion,  nor 
was  she  specially  familiar  with  its  exterior.  Entering  it 
hastily  on  a  stormy  night,  she  had  not  received  the  faintest 
suggestion  that  it  was  the  home  to  which  she  and  her  mother 
had  once  dreamed  she  might  be  welcomed. 

When  at  last  Arnold  had  awakened,  he  saw  dimly,  sitting 
by  the  fire,  an  unfamiliar  form,  which  nevertheless  suggested 
the  one  never  absent  from  his  thoughts.  Noiselessly  he 
pushed  the  lace  curtain  aside,  and  to  his  unspeakable  wonder 
his  eyes  seemed  to  rest  on  Mildred  Jocelyn.  "  She  is  dead," 
he  first  thought,  ' '  and  it  is  her  spirit.  Or  can  it  be  that  my 
reason  is  leaving  me  utterly,  and  the  visions  of  my  tortured 
mind  are  becoming  more  real  than  material  things?  Oh, 
see,"  he  murmured,  "  there  are  tears  in  her  eyes.  I  could 
almost  imagine  that  a  good  angel  had  taken  her  guise  and 


LIGHT  AT  E VENTIDE.  $25 

was  weeping  over  one  so  lost  and  wrecked  as  I  am.  Now 
her  lips  move — she  is  speaking  softly  to  herself.  Great  God  I 
can  it  be  real  ?  Or  is  it  that  my  end  is  near,  and  long- 
delayed  mercy  gives  me  this  sweet  vision  before  I  die  ?" 

His  sombre  and  half-superstitious  conjectures  were  almost 
dispelled  by  a  little  characteristic  act  on  Mildred's  part — an 
act  that  contained  a  suggestion  of  hope  for  Roger.  In 
awakening  the  stronger  traits  of  manhood  in  the  latter  she 
had  also  evoked  an  appreciation  of  beauty  and  a  growing  love 
for  it.  Mildred  was  human  enough  not  to  regret  that  this 
developing  sense  should  find  its  fullest  gratification  in  herself. 
Though  so  determined  to  become  a  wrinkled  spinster,  she 
found  a  secret  and  increasing  pleasure  in  the  admiring  glances 
that  dwelt  upon  her  face  and  dainty  figure,  and  this  fact 
might  have  contained  for  him,  had  he  known  it,  a  pleasing 
hint.  It  must  be  confessed  that  she  no  longer  wished  to  go  into 
his  presence  without  adding  a  little  grace  to  her  usually  plain 
attire  ;  and  now  that  she  was  thinking  so  deeply  of  him  she  in 
voluntarily  raised  her  hand  to  adjust  her  coquettish  nurse's  cap, 
which  by  some  feminine  magic  all  her  own  she  ever  contrived 
to  make  a  becoming  head-dress  rather  than  a  badge  of  office. 

Even  to  Vinton  Arnold's  perturbed  and  disordered  mind 
the  act  was  so  essentially  feminine  and  natural,  so  remote 
from  ghostly  weirdness,  that  he  raised  himself  on  his  elbow 
and  exclaimed,  "  Millie,  Millie  Jocelyn  !" 

"  Ah  !"  cried  Mildred,  starting  from  her  chair  and  looking 
fearfully  toward  the  half-closed  door  of  Mrs.  Sheppard's 
room.  In  her  turn  her  heart  beat  quickly,  with  the  sudden 
superstitious  fear  which  the  strongest  of  us  cannot  control 
when  we  seem  close  to  the  boundaries  of  the  unseen  world. 
"  It  was  his  voice,"  she  murmured. 

"  Millie,  oh,  Millie,  are  you  real,  or  is  it  a  dream?" 

She  took  two  or  three  steps  toward  the  bed,  stopped,  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 


526  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 

"  Oh,  speak  !"  he  cried  in  agony.  "I  do  not  know 
whether  I  am  dreaming  or  awake,  or  whether  I  now  see  as  if 
before  me  the  one  ever  in  my  thoughts.  You  hide  your  face 
from  me, ' '  he  groaned,  sinking  back  despairingly.  ' '  You 
have  come  for  a  brief  moment  to  show  me  that  I  can  never 
look  upon  your  face  again." 

Mildred  thought  swiftly.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  depart 
at  once,  and  then  her  womanly  pity  and  sense  of  duty  gained 
the  mastery.  Vinton  Arnold  was  now  a  dying  man,  and  she 
but  a  trained  nurse.  Perhaps  God's  hand  was  in  their  strange 
and  unexpected  meeting,  and  it  was  His  will  that  the  threads 
of  two  lives  that  had  been  bound  so  closely  should  not  be 
severed  in  fatal  evil.  Should  she  thwart  His  mercy  ? 

"  Mr.  Arnold,"  she  said,  in  an  agitated  voice,  "  this  is  a 
strange  and  undreamt-of  meeting.  Let  me  quiet  your  mind, 
however,  by  telling  you  how  simple  and  matter-of-fact  are 
the  causes  which  led  to  it.  I  am  now  a  professional  nurse 
from  the  Training  School  connected  with  Bellevue  Hospital, 
and  your  sister,  having  sent  to  the  School  for  assistance,  ob 
tained  my  services  as  she  might  those  of  any  of  my  associates. 
In  view — perhaps — it  would  be  best  for  one  of  them  to  take 
my  place. ' ' 

He  was  strongly  moved,  and  listened  panting  and  trembling 
in  his  weakness.  "  Millie,"  at  last  he  faltered,  "  is  there 
any  God  at  all  ?  Is  there  any  kind  or  merciful  spirit  in 
nature  ?  If  so,  you  have  been  sent  to  me,  for  I  am  dying  of 
remorse.  Since  you  bade  me  leave  you  I  have  suffered  tor 
tures,  day  and  night,  that  I  cannot  describe.  I  have  often 
been  at  the  point  of  taking  my  own  life,  but  something  held 
me  back.  Can  it  be  that  it  was  for  this  hour  ?  Mildred, 
I  am  dying.  The  end  of  a  most  unhappy  life  is  very  near. 
Is  there  no  mercy  in  your  faith — no  mercy  in  your  strong, 
pure  womanly  heart  ?" 

"Vinton,"    she  said  gently,  "I  believe  you  are  right. 


LIGHT  AT  E  VENT  WE.  527 

God  has  sent  me  to  you.  I  will  not  leave  you  until  it 
is  best." 

"Millie,  Millie,"  he  pleaded,  "forgive  me.  I  cannot 
believe  in  God's  forgiveness  until  you  forgive  me." 

"  I  forgave  you  from  the  first,  Vinton,  because  I  knew 
there  was  no  cold-blooded  evil  in  your  mind,  and  I  have 
long  felt  that  you  were  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  If 
I  stay  I  must  impose  one  condition — there  must  be  no  words 
concerning  the  past.  That  is  gone  forever." 

"I  know  it,  Mildred.  I  killed  your  love  with  my  own 
hand,  but  the  blow  was  more  fatal  to  me  than  to  you." 

' '  Can  you  not  rally  and  live  ?' '  she  asked  tearfully. 

"  No,"  he  said,  with  a  deep  breath.  "  Moreover,  I  have 
no  wish  to  live.  The  dark  shadow  of  my  life  will  soon  fall 
on  you  no  more,  but  the  hope  that  I  may  breathe  my  last 
with  you  near  brings  a  deep  content  and  peace.  Does  any 
one  yet  suspect  who  you  are  ?" 

"  No.     I  fear  Mrs.  Arnold  will  not  think  it  best." 

"  I  have  never  spoken  to  Mrs.  Arnold  since  that  awful 
night,  and  if  she  interferes  now  I  will  curse  her  with  my  last 
breath.  This  is  my  one  hope — my  one  gleam  of  light  in 
the  life  she  has  cursed — " 

"  Hush,  oh  hush  !  Unless  my  presence  brings  quietness 
I  cannot  stay,"  for  at  the  name  of  his  mother  he  became 
dangerously  agitated.  "  I  will  tell  Mrs.  Sheppard  in  the 
morning,  and  I  think  she  will  arrange  it  so  that  I  can  do  all 
in  my  power  for  you. ' ' 

"  No,"  he  replied,  after  a  little  thought,  "  I  will  tell  her. 
She  is  unlike  my  mother  and  other  sisters,  and  has  a  good 
heart.  She  has  taken  entire  charge  of  me,  but  I  was  in  such 
a  hell  of  suffering  at  the  thought  of  dying  without  one  word 
from  you  that  I  was  almost  a  maniac.  I  will  be  quiet  now. 
Leave  all  to  me  ;  I  can  make  her  understand." 

When  Mrs.  Sheppard  entered,  as  the  late  dawn  began  to 


528  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

mingle  with  the  gaslight,  she  found  her  brother  sleeping 
quietly,  his  hand  clasping  Mildred's.  To  her  slight  expres 
sion  of  surprise  the  young  girl  returned  a  clear,  steadfast  look, 
and  said  calmly,  ' '  When  your  brother  awakes  he  has  some 
explanations  to  make.  I  am  Mildred  Jocelyn. ' ' 

The  lady  sank  into  a  chair  and  looked  at  her  earnestly. 
' '  I  have  long  wished  to  see  you, ' '  she  murmured.  ' '  Vin- 
ton  has  told  me  everything.  I  was  so  overcome  with  sleep 
and  fatigue  last  night  that  I  neither  told  you  his  name  nor 
asked  yours.  Did  you  not  suspect  where  you  were  ?' ' 

' '  Not  until  he  awoke  and  recognized  me. ' ' 

' '  Was  he  greatly  agitated  ?' ' 

' '  Yes,  at  first.  It  was  so  unexpected  that  he  thought  me 
a  mere  illusion  of  his  own  mind." 

"  Miss  Jocelyn,  I  believe  God  sent  you  to  him." 

"So  he  thinks." 

"  You  won't  leave  him  till — till —     It  can't  be  long." 

"  That  depends  upon  you,  Mrs.  Sheppard.  I  am  very, 
very  sorry  for  him,"  and  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 

Low  as  was  the  murmur  of  their  voices,  Arnold  awoke  and 
glanced  with  troubled  eyes  from  one  to  the  other  before  it  all 
came  back  to  him  ;  but  his  sister  brought  quiet  and  rest  by 
saying  gently,  as  she  kissed  him, 

"  Vinton,  Miss  Jocelyn  shall  not  leave  you." 


"GOOD  ANGEL  OF  GOD,"  529 


CHAPTER   XLVIII. 

''GOOD     ANGEL      OF      GOD/' 

THE  young  nurse  soon  became  known  through  the 
house  simply  as  Miss  Mildred.  With  the  exception 
of  Mrs.  Sheppard,  the  valet,  and  the  physician,  no  one  en 
tered  the  sick-room  except  Mr.  Arnold,  and  the  old  man 
often  lingered  and  hovered  around  like  a  remorseful  ghost 
He  had  grown  somewhat  feeble,  and  no  longer  went  to  his 
business.  His  son  had  tolerated  his  presence  since  he  had 
come  home  to  die,  but  had  little  to  say  to  him,  for  the  bit 
terness  of  his  heart  extended  to  the  one  who  had  yielded  to 
his  mother's  hardness  and  inveterate  worldliness.  In  the 
secrecy  of  his  heart  the  old  merchant  admitted  that  he  had 
been  guilty  of  a  fatal  error,  and  the  consequences  had  been 
so  terrible  to  his  son  that  he  had  daily  grown  more  con 
science-smitten  ;  but  his  wife  had  gained  such  an  ascendency 
over  him  in  all  social  and  domestic  questions  that  beyond 
occasional  protests  he  had  let  matters  drift  until  Vinton  re 
turned  from  his  long  exile  in  Europe.  The  hope  that  his 
son  would  get  over  what  his  wife  called  ' '  an  absurd  youth 
ful  folly"  was  now  rudely  dispelled,  and  in  bitterness  he 
reproached  himself  that  he  had  not  adopted  a  different  course. 

From  the  way  in  which  he  came  in  and  looked  at  his  son 
when  he  was  sleeping,  it  was  soon  revealed  to  Mildred  ho\v 
he  felt,  and  she  pitied  him  also. 

Mrs.  Sheppard  was  a  wealthy  widow,  and  the  eldest 
daughter.  She  was  for  the  present  making  her  home  under 


53°  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

the  paternal  roof.  Unlike  her  mother,  she  had  quick,  strong 
sympathies,  which  sorrows  of  her  own  had  deepened.  She 
had  assumed  the  care  of  her  brother,  and  infused  into  her 
ministry  a  tenderness  which  at  last  led  the  embittered  heart 
to  reveal  itself  to  her.  She  was  therefore  already  prepared  to 
be  Mildred's  sincere  ally  in  bringing  a  little  light  into  the  late 
evening-tide  of  her  brother's  clouded  day. 

Most  of  the  time  she  sat  in  her  own  room  with  the  door 
ajar,  leaving  Vinton  to  the  ministrations  of  his  nurse.  He 
required  far  less  care  now,  for  he  seemed  content  to  rest  as 
one  might  during  a  respite  from  torture.  His  eyes  would 
follow  Mildred  with  a  pathetic  longing  when  he  was  awake, 
and  when  she  took  his  hand  and  told  him  to  sleep  he  would 
obey  like  a  child.  He  seemed  better  because  so  quiet,  but 
he  grew  weaker  daily.  All  knew,  and  none  better  than  him 
self,  that  life  was  slowly  ebbing.  His  father  came  in  more 
frequently  than  ever,  for  his  son  showed  no  restlessness  at  his 
presence  now.  At  Mildred's  request  Vinton  even  began  to 
greet  him  with  something  like  a  welcome,  and  the  young  girl 
did  all  in  her  power  to  make  the  old  gentleman  feel  at  home  ; 
sometimes  she  would  place  a  large  easy-chair  by  the  fire  and 
ask  him  to  sit  with  them.  He  was  glad  to  comply,  and  often 
looked  wonderingly  and  earnestly  at  the  fair  young  nurse  that 
was  working  such  a  transformation  in  the  patient.  He  once 
or  twice  tried  to  become  better  acquainted  with  her,  but  ever 
found  her  gentle,  deferential,  and  very  reserved. 

Twice  Mildred  asked  Vinton  to  let  her  send  for  Mr.  Went- 
worth,  but  he  shook  his  head  and  said  that  she  alone  could 
do  him  any  good.  "  Read  the  Bible  to  me  when  you  feel 
like  it.  I'll  listen  to  you,  but  my  best  hope  is  to  sleep  so 
quietly  that  I  shall  have  no  dreams.  If  that  cannot  be,  I'll 
remember  that  you  forgave  me. ' ' 

"  Such  words  make  me  very  sad,"  she  replied,  on  the  lat 
ter  occasion,  tears  rushing  into  her  eyes. 


"  GOOD  ANGEL  OF  GOD."  $3! 

' '  I  am  not  worthy  that  you  should  care  so  much, ' '  he 
said.  "  What  am  I  but  a  flickering  rush-light  which  your 
hand  is  shielding  that  it  may  burn  out  quietly  ?" 

1 '  Vinton,  you  are  wrong.  The  life  which  God  has  given 
you  cannot  cease.  I  am  not  wise  and  learned,  and  I  have 
an  almost  unconquerable  diffidence  in  speaking  on  these  sub 
jects,  except  to  children  and  the  poor  and  ignorant.  But 
since  you  won't  see  any  one  else,  I  must  speak.  You  say 
God  sent  me  to  you,  and  I  accept  your  belief,  but  He  did 
not  send  me  to  you  merely  to  relieve  physical  pain  and  men 
tal  disquiet.  If  a  man  is  stumbling  toward  an  abyss  of  dark 
ness,  is  it  any  great  kindness  to  hold  a  lamp  so  that  his  last 
steps  may  be  easier  ?  There  is  for  each  one  of  us  a  vital 
truth  and  a  sacred  duty,  and  in  shutting  your  eyes  to  these 
and  living  in  the  present  hour,  you  show — pardon  an  honest 
friend  for  saying  it — you  show  a  more  fatal  weakness  than 
you  have  yet  manifested." 

"You  are  mistaken,  Mildred,"  he  said  bitterly.  "As 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  what  truth  is  there  for  me  to  contem 
plate  except  a  wasted,  unhappy  life,  wrecked  and  shamed  be 
yond  remedy,  beyond  hope.  I  long  ago  lost  what  trace  of 
manhood  I  once  had.  Never  dream  that  because  you  have  for 
given  me  I  shall  forgive  myself.  No,  no,"  he  said,  with  a 
dark  vindictiveness  in  his  eyes,  "  there  are  three  that  I  shall 
never  forgive,  and  I  am  one  of  them.  As  for  duty,  the  word  is 
torment.  What  can  I  do — I  who  can  scarcely  raise  my  hand  ? 
My  day  is  over,  my  chance  has  gone  by  forever.  Don't  in 
terrupt  me.  I  know  you  would  speak  of  the  consolations  of 
religion,  but  I'd  rather  goto  the  devil  himself — if  there  is  one 
— than  to  such  a  God  as  my  mother  worships  ;  and  she 
has  always  been  a  very  religious  woman.  The  whole  thing 
long  since  became  a  farce  to  me  at  our  church.  It  was 
just  as  much  a  part  of  the  fashionable  world  that  blighted  me 
as  the  rest  of  society's  mummeries.  You  never  went  there 


5 3 2  WITHO  UT  A  HOME. 

after  you  had  real  trouble  to  contend  with.  It  was  the  last 
place  that  you  would  think  of  going  to  for  comfort  or  help. 
The  thought  of  you  alone  has  kept  me  from  utter  unbelief, 
and  I  would  be  glad  to  believe  that  there  is  some  kindly 
power  in  existence  that  watches  over  such  beings  as  you  are, 
and  that  can  reward  your  noble  life  ;  but  as  far  as  I  am  con 
cerned  it's  all  a  mystery  and  a  weariness.  You  are  near — 
you  are  merciful  and  kind.  This  is  all  the  heaven  I  expect. 
It  is  far  more  than  I  deserve.  Let  me  rest,  Mildred.  It 
will  be  but  for  a  few  more  days.  Then  when  you  close  my 
eyes,  may  I  sleep  forever,"  and  he  leaned  back  faint  and  ex 
hausted.  He  would  not  let  her  interrupt  him,  for  he  seemed 
bent  on  settling  the  question  as  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and 
dismissing  it  finally. 

She  listened  with  fast-falling  tears,  and  answered  sighingly, 
"  Oh,  I  do  wish  you  would  see  Mr.  Wentworth.  You  are 
so  wrong — so  fatally  mistaken." 

' '  No, ' '  he  said  firmly,  ' '  I  will  see  no  one  but  you. 

' '  Oh,  what  shall  I  say  to  you  ?' ' 

' '  Do  not  grieve  so  about  me.  You  cannot  change  any 
thing.  You  cannot  give  me  your  strong,  grand  nature  any 
more  than  you  can  your  beautiful  life  and  perfect  health.  I 
could  become  a  Catholic  and  worship  St.  Mildred,"  he  added 
with  a  smile,  trying  to  banish  her  tears.  "The  only  duty 
that  I  am  capable  of  is  to  try  to  make  as  little  trouble  as  pos 
sible,  and  to  cease  making  it  altogether  soon.  Go  and  rest, 
and  I  will  too,  for  I'm  very  tired." 

"  No,"  she  said  resolutely.  "  My  mission  to  you  must 
not  end  so  weakly,  so  uselessly.  Will  you  do  me  a  favor  ?' ' 

"I?" 

"Yes;  listen  quietly  and  honestly ;"  and  she  read  the 
first  verses  of  the  nineteenth  chapter  of  St.  John,  ending  with 
the  words,  "  Behold  the  man." 

' '  Vinton, ' '  she  said  eagerly,  ' '  the  truth  to  which  I  referred 


"GOOD  ANGEL  OF  GOD."  533 

was  embodied  truth,  and  your  first  sacred  duty  is  to  look  to 
Him  and  live.  To  the  last  conscious  moment  of  life  this 
will  remain  your  first  and  most  sacred  duty,  and  were  you  the 
strongest  man  in  this  city  you  could  not  do  more.  It's  not 
a  question  of  religions  at  all,  or  of  what  other  people  are  or 
believe.  The  words  I  have  read  have  brought  you  face  to 
face  with  this  Divine  Man,  who  came  to  seek  and  save  that 
which  was  lost.  Never  did  a  despairing  human  soul  cry  out 
to  Him  in  vain.  He  is  as  real  as  I  am.  His  tender  pity  is 
infinitely  beyond  mine.  Far  better  and  wiser  would  it  be  for 
you  to  turn  from  me  than  from  Him.  Oh,  merciful  Christ, 
how  the  world  wrongs  Thee  !"  and  she  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  sobbed  bitterly. 

"  Millie,  please  don't,"  he  entreated.  "  I  can't  endure 
to  see  you  so  grieved. ' ' 

"  Forgive  me — I  am  forgetting  myself  sadly  ;  but  how  can 
I  see  you  so  hopeless,  so  despairing,  when  there  is  no  more 
need  of  it  than  of  your  refusing  what  I  try  to  do  for  your 
comfort?  There,  rest  now,  but  think  of  what  I've  said.  I 
may  have  done  wrong  to  tire  you  so,  but  to  minister  to  the 
body  only,  when  the  soul,  the  man  within  you,  is  in  such 
infinite  need  seems  but  a  mockery.  If  you  continue  to 
wrong  Him  who  should  be  the  one  great  hope  of  every 
human  heart,  you  will  sadden  all  my  days.  My  mission  will 
be  but  a  poor  one  indeed." 

He  was  very  much  exhausted,  but  he  said  gently,  ' '  I  will 
think  of  it,  and  may  the  One  you  serve  so  faithfully  bless  you 
for  your  divine  pity.  What  you  have  said  seems  to  make 
everything  different ;  you  appear  to  have  something  real  and 
definite  in  your  mind.  Give  me  your  hand  and  I  will  rest  ; 
then,  my  good  angel,  teach  me  your  faith." 

This  Mildred  did  almost  wholly  from  God's  own  word. 
At  first  it  was  hard  for  him  to  believe  that  there  were  any 
possibilities  for  one  like  him,  but  at  last  he  accepted  the  truth 


534  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

that  God  is  not  willing  that  the  least  should  perish.  ' '  The 
mystery  of  life  is  something  that  the  wisest  cannot  solve, ' '  she 
said  to  him,  "  but  the  best  hopes  of  the  world  have  ever 
centred  about  this  Divine  Friend.  Burdened  hearts  have 
gone  to  Him  in  every  age  and  found  rest.  Oh,  how  often 
He  has  comforted  me  when  mine  seemed  breaking  !  In  re 
sponse  to  a  simple  trust  He  gives  a  hope,  a  life  which  I  do 
not  think  can  be  found  elsewhere,  and  in  the  limitless  future 
that  which  was  all  wrong  here  may  be  made  right  and 
perfect. ' ' 

"  So  this  is  your  revenge,  Millie.  You  come  and  bring 
me  this  great  hope. ' ' 

"  No,  God  sent  me." 

Mildred's  mission  to  the  sad-hearted  Mrs.  Sheppard  was 
almost  as  sacred  and  useful  as  to  her  brother,  and  they  had 
many  long  talks  which  possessed  all  the  deep  interest  which 
is  imparted  by  experiences  that  leave  a  lasting  impress  on 
memory. 

Every  day  increased  the  bitter  regret  that  short-sighted 
worldliness  had  blighted  one  life  and  kept  from  others  one 
who  had  such  rare  powers  of  creating  all  that  constitutes  a 
home. 

To  Roger  Mildred  had  written  almost  daily,  telling  him 
everything.  Her  letters  were  so  frank  and  sincere  that  they 
dispelled  the  uneasiness  which  first  took  possession  of  his 
mind,  and  they  gradually  disarmed  him  of  his  hostility  to  the 
dying  man.  There  is  a  point  in  noble  souls  beyond  which 
enmity  falters  and  fails,  and  he  felt  that  Mildred's  course 
toward  Arnold  was  like  the  mercy  of  God.  He  reverenced 
the  girl  who  like  an  angel  of  mercy  was  bringing  hope  -to  a 
despairing  soul. 

"  Laura,"  said  old  Mr.  Arnold  to  Mrs.  Sheppard  one 
evening  as  she  was  sitting  with  him  in  his  library,  "  this 
young  nurse  is  a  continual  surprise  to  me." 


"  GOOD  ANGEL  OF  GOD."  535 

"  What  do  you  mean,  papa  ?" 

"  Well,  she  impresses  me  strangely.  She  has  come  to  us 
as  a  professional  nurse,  and  yet  I  have  never  seen  a  more  per 
fect  gentlewoman.  There  is  a  subtle  grace  and  refinement 
about  her  which  is  indescribable.  No  wonder  Vinton  has 
been  made  better  by  her  care.  I  wouldn'  t  mind  being  sick 
myself  if  I  could  have  her  about  me.  That  girl  has  a  his 
tory.  How  comes  she  in  such  a  position  ?' ' 

"  I  think  her  position  a  very  exalted  one,"  said  his 
daughter  warmly.  ' '  Think  what  an  infinite  blessing  and 
comfort  she  has  been  in  our  household." 

'.'  True,  true  enough  ;  but  I  didn't  expect  any  such  person 
to  be  sent  to  us." 

' '  I  am  perfectly  ready  to  admit  that  this  young  girl  is  an 
unusual  character,  and  have  no  doubt  that  she  has  had  a 
history  that  would  account  for  her  influence.  But  you  are 
in  error  if  you  think  that  these  trained  nurses  are  recruited 
from  the  ranks  of  commonplace  women.  Many  of  them 
come  from  as  good  families  as  ours,  and  have  all  the  instincts 
of  a  true  lady.  They  have  a  noble  calling,  and  I  envy  them.  '* 
"  Well,  you  know  more  about  it  than  I  do,  but  I  think 
this  Miss  Mildred  a  rare  type  of  woman.  It's  not  her  beau 
tiful  face,  for  she  has  a  charm,  a  winsomeness  that  is  hard  to 
define  or  account  for.  She  makes  me  think  of  some  subtle 
perfume  that  is  even  sweeter  than  the  flower  from  which  it  is 
distilled.  Would  to  God  Vinton  had  met  such  a  girl  at 
first !  How  different  it  all  might  have  been  !" 

Mrs.  Sheppard  left  the  room  so  hastily  as  to  excite  her 
father's  surprise. 

One  day  Vinton  said  to  Mildred,  "  How  can  I  be  truly 
forgiven  unless  I  forgive  ?  I  now  see  that  I  have  wronged 
God's  love  even  more  than  my  mother  has  wronged  me,  and 
in  my  deep  gratitude  from  the  consciousness  of  God's  for 
giveness  I  would  like  to  forgive  her  and  be  reconciled  before? 


S36  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

I  die.  To  my  brother  I  will  send  a  brief  message — I  can't 
see  him  again,  for  the  ordeal  would  be  too  painful.  As  for 
my  father,  I  have  long  ceased  to  cherish  enmity  against  him. 
He,  like  myself,  is,  in  a  certain  sense,  a  victim  of  our 
family  pride." 

' '  Vinton, ' '  Mildred  replied,  ' '  I  cannot  tell  you  how  glad 
I  am  to  hear  you  speak  so.  I  have  been  waiting  and  hoping 
for  this,  for  it  is  proof  that  your  feeling  is  not  mere  emotion 
and  sentiment.  You  now  propose  to  do  something  that  is 
more  than  manly — it  is  divine.  God' s  greatest,  dearest,  most 
godlike  prerogative  is  to  forgive,  and  man's  noblest  act  is  to 
forgive  a  great  wrong.  Vinton,  you  have  now  won  my  re 
spect.  ' ' 

She  never  forgot  his  answering  glance.  "  Millie,"  he  said 
softly,  ' '  I  can  die  happy  now.  I  never  expected  more  than 
your  pity." 

"  If  you  will  do  this,  your  memory  will  become  sweet  and 
ennobled  in  my  heart.  Your  action  will  show  me  how 
grandly  and  swiftly  God  can  develop  one  who  has  been 
wronged  by  evil." 

"  God  bless  you,  my  good  angel.  Ask  my  sister  to  send 
for  my  father  and  mother  at  once.  I  feel  a  little  stronger 
this  evening,  and  yet  I  think  the  beginning  of  my  new  life  is 
very  near." 

Mildred  went  into  Mrs.  Sheppard's  room  and  told  her  of 
Vinton' s  purpose.  She  looked  at  the  young  girl  for  a. 
moment  with  eyes  blinded  by  tears,  and  then  clasped  her  in 
a  close,  passionate  embrace  which  was  more  eloquent  than 
any  words.  "  Oh,  Mildred,"  she  said,  with  a  low  sob,  "  if 
you  only  could  have  been  my  sister  !"  Then  she  hastened 
to  carry  out  her  brother' s  wishes. 

The  fire  burned  brightly  in  the  grate,  the  softened  lights 
diffused  a  mil'd  radiance  through  the  room,  and  the  old  im 
pression  of  gloom  was  utterly  absent  when  Vinton' s  parents 


"  GOOD  ANGEL  OF  GOD."  537 

entered.  Neither  Mrs.  Arnold  nor  her  husband  was  quite 
able  to  hide  the  surprise  and  embarrassment  felt  at  the  un 
expected  summons,  but  Mr.  Arnold  \nent  promptly  to  the 
bedside,  and,  taking  his  son's  hand,  said  huskily,  "  I'll  come 
any  time  you  wish,  my  dear  boy,  be  it  night  or  day. ' ' 

Vinton  gave  as  warm  a  pressure  in  answer  as  his  feebleness 
permitted,  and  then  he  said  gravely,  "  I  wish  you  and 
mother  to  sit  here  close  to  me,  for  I  must  speak  low,  and  my 
words  must  be  brief.  I  have  but  a  little  fragment  of  life  left 
to  me,  and  must  hasten  to  perform  the  few  duties  yet  within 
my  power. ' ' 

"  Had  not  this  young  woman  better  retire?"  suggested 
Mrs.  Arnold,  glancing  coldly  at  Mildred,  who  stood  in  the 
background,  Mrs.  Sheppard  detaining  her  by  a  strong,  warm 
clasp  of  her  hand. 

' '  No, ' '  said  Vinton  decisively,  ' '  she  must  remain.  Were 
it  not  for  the  influence  of  this  Christian — not  religious,  but 
Christian — girl,  you  would  never  have  seen  my  face  again, 
with  my  consent.  In  showing  me  how  God  forgives  the  sin 
ful,  she  has  taught  me  how  to  forgive.  Mother,  I  never  ex 
pected  to  forgive  you,  but  I  do  from  my  heart.  I  am  far  be 
yond  the  world  and  all  worldly  considerations.  In  the  clear 
light  of  the  endless  life  to  which  we  are  all  hastening,  I  see 
as  never  before  how  small,  petty,  and  unworthy  are  those  un 
natural  principles  which  blight  human  life  at  fashion's  bidding. 
Mother,  I  wish  to  do  you  justice.  You  tried  to  care  for  me 
in  my  childhood  and  youth.  You  spared  yourself  no  expense, 
no  trouble,  but  you  could  not  seem  to  understand  that  what 
I  needed  was  sympathy  and  love — that  my  heart  was  always 
repressed  and  unhappy.  The  human  soul,  however  weak, 
is  not  like  an  exotic  plant.  It  should  be  tended  by  a  hand 
that  is  as  gentle  as  it  is  firm  and  careful.  I  found  one  who 
combined  gentleness  with  strength  ;  stern,  lofty  principle  with 
the  most  beautiful  wid  delicate  womanhood  ;  and  you  know 


S38  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

how  I  lost  her.  Could  I  have  followed  the  instincts  of  my 
heart,  my  fate  would  have  been  widely  different.  But  that 
is  now  all  past.  You  did  not  mean  to  wrong  me  so  terribly. 
It  was  only  because  your  own  life  was  all  wrong  that  you 
wronged  me.  Your  pride  and  prejudice  prevented  you  from 
knowing  the  truth  concerning  the  girl  I  loved.  Mother,  I 
am  dying,  and  my  last  earnest  counsel  to  you  and  father  is 
that  you  will  obey  the  words  of  the  loftiest  and  greatest,  '  Learn 
of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  ye  shall  find 
rest  unto  your  souls.'  If  you  cannot  do  this,  your  lives  will 
be  a  more  wretched  failure  than  mine  has  been.  Bury  your 
worldly  pride  in  my  grave,  and  learn  to  be  gentle  and 
womanly,  and  may  God  forgive  you  as  truly  as  I  do." 

As  he  spoke  slowly  and  feebly,  the  cold,  proud  woman 
began  to  tremble  and  weep,  and  when  his  words  ceased  she 
sank  on  her  knees  at  his  bedside  and  sobbed,  "  Oh,  what 
have  I  done  ?  Must  I  bear  the  remorse  of  having  murdered 
my  own  child  ?" 

"  No,  mother,  you  were  blinded  as  I  was.  You  will  be 
forgiven  as  I  have  been.  In  the  better  home  of  heaven  we'  11 
find  the  secret  of  our  true  relationship  which  we  missed 
here.  Good-by  now.  I  must  hasten,  for  I  am  very  weak. ' ' 

Mrs.  Arnold  rose,  put  her  arms  around  her  son  and  kissed 
him,  and  her  daughter  supported  her  from  the  room,  Vin- 
ton's  eyes  following  her  sorrowfully  until  she  disappeared. 
Then  he  said,  ' '  Dear  old  father,  come  and  .sit  close  beside 
me." 

He  came,  and  bowed  his  head  upon  his  son's  hand. 

' '  Millie, ' '  he  called  feebly  to  the  young  girl  who  stood  by 
the  fire  with  her  face  buried  in  her  hands.  She  came  at  once. 
"  God  bless  you  for  those  tears.  They  fall  like  dew  into 
my  soul.  Millie,  I  feel  as  if — I  don' t  know  what  it  means 
— it  seems  as  if  I  might  go  to  my  rest  now.  The  room  is 
growing  dark,  and  I  seem  to  see  you  more  in  my  mind  than 


"  GOOD  ANGEL  OF  GOD,"  539 

with  my  eyes.  Millie,  will  you — can  you  so  far  forgive  me 
as  to  take  my  head  upon  your  bosom  and  let  me  say  my  last 
words  near  your  heart  ?' ' 

"  Great  God  !"  cried  his  father,  starting  up,  "  is  he  dying  ?" 

"  Father,  please  be  calm.  Keep  my  hand.  Let  my  end 
come  as  I  wish.  Millie,  Millie,  won't  you  ?" 

Her  experienced  eyes  saw  that  his  death  was  indeed  at 
hand — that  his  life  had  but  flickered  up  brightly  once  more 
before  expiring.  Therefore  she  gratified  his  final  wish,  and 
took  his  head  upon  her  breast. 

' '  Rest,  rest  at  last, ' '  he  sighed. 

"  Father,"  he  said  after  a  moment  or  two,  look  at  this  dear 
girl  who  has  saved  my  soul  from  death. ' '  The  old  man 
lifted  his  head  and  gazed  upon  the  pure,  sweet  face  at  which 
he  had  looked  so  often  and  questioningly  before. 

"  Oh,  Vinton,  Vinton,  God  forgive  me  !  I  see  it  all. 
Our  insane  pride  and  prejudice  kept  a  good  angel  from  our 
home. ' ' 

"  Yes,  father,  this  is  Mildred  Jocelyn.  Was  I  wrong  to 
love  her  ?' ' 

"  Oh,  blind,  blind  fool  that  I've  been  !"  the  old  man 
groaned. 

"  Don't  grieve  so,  father.  If  you  will  listen  to  her  words, 
her  mission  to  us  all  will  be  complete.  She  is  fatherless. 
Be  kind  to  her  after  I  am  gone." 

The  old  man  rose  slowly  and  leaned  his  brow  on  Mildred's 
head.  "  My  child,"  he  said  brokenly,  "  all  my  love  for 
Vinton  shall  now  go  to  you,  and  his  portion  shall  be  yours." 

' '  God  bless  you,  father.  Good-by  now.  Let  me  sleep, ' ' 
and  his  eyes  closed  wearily. 

"  That's  right,  my  boy  ;  you'll  be  better  in  the  morning, " 
and  with  feeble,  faltering  steps  he  left  the  room,  murmuring, 
"  Oh  that  I  had  only  known  in  time  !" 

Mrs.  Sheppard  now  entered  and  took  his  place.     For  a 


540  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

little  time  Vinton  seemed  to  sleep.  Then  he  opened  his 
eyes  and  looked  slowly  around.  They  kindled  into  loving 
recognition  as  they  rested  on  his  sister.  "  Laura,  your 
patience  and  mercy  toward  me  have  been  rewarded,"  he 
whispered.  ' '  Say  to  Mansfield  and  my  other  brother  and 
sisters  what  I  told  you.  Be  as  kind  to  Mildred  as  you  have 
been  to  me.  Good-by. ' ' 

"  Millie,  Millie,  good  angel  of  God  to  me,  farewell  for  a 
little  while. ' ' 

His  eyes  closed  again,  his  breath  came  more  and  more 
slowly,  and  at  last  it  ceased.  His  sister  put  her  hand  over 
his  heart  His  sad,  thwarted  life  had  ended  on  earth. 

Mildred  kissed  him  for  the  first  time  in  her  ministry,  and 
murmured,  as  she  gently  laid  his  head  back  upon  the  pillow, 
"  Thank  God,  it  has  not  ended  as  I  feared." 


HOME*  541 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

HOME. 

WE  take  up  the  thread  of  our  story  after  the  lapse  of 
several  months.  Mildred  left  the  Arnold  family 
softened  and  full  of  regret.  Even  proud  Mrs.  Arnold  asked 
her  forgiveness  with  many  bitter  tears,  but  beyond  a  few  little 
significant  gifts  they  found  it  impossible  to  make  the  one 
toward  whom  their  hearts  were  now  so  tender  take  more  than 
the  regular  compensation  that  went  toward  the  support  of  the 
institution  to  which  she  belonged.  Mr.  Arnold  and  Mrs. 
Sheppard  would  not  give  her  up,  and  often  came  to  see  her, 
and  the  old  gentleman  always  made  her  promise  that  when 
he  became  ill  she  would  take  care  of  him  ;  and  once  he  whis 
pered  to  her,  ' '  You  won' t  take  anything  from  me  now,  but 
in  my  will  I  can  remember  my  debt.  All  my  wealth  cannot 
pay  what  I  owe  to  you." 

"  Money  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  relations  to  you," 
she  replied  gently. 

"  Vinton's  portion  belongs  to  you,"  was  his  quiet  reply. 
' '  The  poor  boy  so  understood  it,  and  I  shall  not  break  faith 
with  the  dead." 

' '  Then  his  portion  shall  go  toward  relieving  suffering  in 
this  city, ' '  was  her  answer. 

' '  You  can  do  what  you  please  with  it,  for  it  shall  be  yours. 

While  Mildred  quietly  performed  her  duties  as  head-nurse 
in  one  of  the  wards  during  the  last  six  months  of  the  two 
years  of  her  sojourn  at  the  Training  School,  some  important 


542  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

changes  had  occurred  in  Roger's  circumstances.  He  had, 
more  than  a  year  before,  graduated  second  in  his  class  at 
college,  and  had  given  the  impression  that  he  would  have 
been  first  had  he  taken  the  full  four  years'  course.  His 
crotchety  uncle,  with  whom  since  the  reconciliation  he  had 
resided,  had  died,  and  after  a  few  months  his  wife  followed 
him,  and  Roger  found  himself  a  wealthy  man,  but  not  a 
happy  one.  Beyond  giving  his  parents  every  comfort  which 
they  craved,  and  making  his  sister  Susan  quite  an  heiress,  he 
scarcely  knew  what  to  do  with  the  money.  His  uncle's 
home  was  not  at  all  to  his  taste,  and  he  soon  left  it,  purchas 
ing  a  moderate-sized  but  substantial  and  elegant  house  in  a 
part  of  the  city  that  best  suited  his  convenience.  Here  he 
installed  Mrs.  Wheaton  as  housekeeper,  and,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  his  own  suite  of  rooms  and  the  sleeping  apartments, 
left  all  the  rest  unfurnished.  After  placing  himself  in  a 
position  to  offer  hospitalities  to  his  country  relatives,  he  de 
termined  that  the  parlors  should  remain  empty,  as  a  mute  re 
proach  to  Mildred. 

One  evening,  a  week  before  she  graduated,  he  induced  her 
to  go  with  him  to  see  his  house.  "  It's  not  a  home,"  he 
whispered;  "I  merely  stay  here."  Then,  without  giving 
time  for  reply,  he  ushered  her  into  the  hall,  which  was  simply 
but  very  elegantly  furnished.  Mildred  had  time  only  to  note 
two  or  three  fine  old  engravings  and  a  bronze  figure,  when 
Mrs.  Wheaton,  bustling  up  from  the  basement,  overwhelmed 
her  with  hospitality.  They  first  inspected  her  domains,  and 
in  neatness  and  comfort  found  them  all  that  could  be  desired. 
'  You  see,"  said  the  good  woman,  as  she  and  Mildred  were 
hidden  from  view  in  a  china  closet,  "  I  could  get  hup  quite 
a  grand  dinner,  but  I  hain't  much  use  fur  these  'ere  things, 
fur  he  heats  less  and  less  hevery  day.  I'm  troubled  habout 
Mr.  Roger,  fur  he  seems  kinder  low  hin  'is  spirits  and  dis 
couraged  like.  Most  young  men  vould  feel  like  lords  hin  'is 


HOME.  543 

shoes,  but  he' s  a-gettin'  veary  and  listless-like.  Vun  day  he 
vas  so  down  that  I  vanted  '  im  to  see  a  doctor,  but  he  smiled 
kinder  strange  and  said  nothin'.  He's  a-gettin'  thin  and 
pale.  Vat  vould  I  do  hif  he  should  get  sick  ?" 

Mildred  turned  in  quick  alarm  and  glanced  at  the  young 
man,  who  stood  looking  at  the  glowing  kitchen-range,  as  if 
his  thoughts  were  little  interested  in  the  homely  appliances 
for  his  material  comfort  His  appearance  confirmed  Mrs. 
Wheaton's  words,  for  his  features  were  thinner  than  they  had 
been  since  he  recovered  from  his  illness,  and  there  was  a 
suggestion  of  lassitude  and  dejection  in  his  manner.  She 
went  directly  to  him  and  said, 

"  Mrs.  Wheaton  tells  me  you  are  not  well." 

He  started,  then  threw  off  all  depression,  remarking  lightly, 
"  Mrs.  Wheaton  is  fidgety.  She  prepares  enough  food  for 
four  men.  I'  m  well — have  been  working  rather  late  at  night, 
that' sail." 

1 '  Why  do  you,  Roger  ?' '  she  asked,  in  a  voice  full  of  solic 
itude. 

"  If  I  don't  feel  sleepy  there  is  no  use  in  wasting  time. 
But  come,  you  have  seen  enough  of  the  culinary  department. 
Since  Mrs.  Wheaton  has  charge  of  it  you  can  know  before 
hand  that  everything  will  be  the  best  of  its  kind.  I  think  \ 
can  show  you  something  in  my  sitting-room  that  will  interest 
you  more." 

Mrs.  Wheaton  preceded  them,  and  Mildred  took  his  arm 
in  a  way  that  showed  that  he  had  not  been  able  to  banish  her 
anxiety  on  his  behalf.  "  Let  me  see  your  parlors,  Roger," 
she  said  when  they  again  reached  the  hall.  ' '  I  expect  to 
find  them  models  of  elegance. ' ' 

He  threw  open  the  door  and  revealed  two  bare  rooms,  the 
brilliantly  burning  gas  showing  frescoes  of  unusual  beauty, 
but  beyond  these  there  was  nothing  to  relieve  their  bleak 
emptiness.  ' '  I  have  no  use  for  these  rooms, ' '  he  remarked 


544  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

briefly,  closing  the  door.  "Come with  me,"  and  he  led  her 
to  the  apartment  facing  the  street  on  the  second  floor.  The 
gas  was  burning  dimly,  but  when  he  had  placed  her  where 
he  wished  her  to  stand,  he  suddenly  turned  it  up,  and  before 
her,  smiling  into  her  eyes  from  the  wall,  were  three  ex 
quisitely  finished  oil  portraits — her  father  and  mother  and 
Belle,  looking  as  she  remembered  them  in  their  best  and  hap 
piest  days. 

The  effect  upon  her  at  first  was  almost  overpowering.  She 
sank  into  a  chair  with  heart  far  too  full  for  words,  and  looked 
until  tears  so  blinded  her  eyes  that  she  could  see  them  no 
longer. 

"  Roger,"  she  murmured,  "it's  almost  the  same  as  if  you 
had  brought  them  back  to  life.  Oh,  Roger,  God  bless  you — 
you  have  not  banished  papa  ;  you  have  made  him  look  as  he 
asked  us  to  remember  him, ' '  and  her  tender  grief  became  un 
controllable  for  a  few  moments. 

"Don't  cry  so,  Millie,"  he  said  gently.  "Don't  you 
see  they  are  smiling  at  you  ?  Are  the  likenesses  good  ?' ' 

"  They  are  life-like,"  she  answered  after  a  little.  "  How 
could  you  get  them  so  perfect  ?" 

"  Belle  and  your  mother  gave  me  their  pictures  long  ago, 
and  you  remember  that  I  once  asked  you  for  your  father's 
likeness  when  I  was  looking  for  him.  There  were  some 
who  could  aid  me  if  they  knew  how  he  looked.  Then  you 
know  my  eye  is  rather  correct,  and  I  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  with  the  artist.  Between  us  we  reached  these  results, 
and  it' s  a  great  happiness  to  me  that  they  please  you. ' ' 

Her  eyes  were  eloquent  indeed  as  she  said,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  What  a  loyal  friend  you  are  !" 

He  shook  his  head  so  significantly  that  a  sudden  crimson 
came  into  her  face,  and  she  was  glad  that  Mrs.  Wheaton 
was  busy  in  an  adjoining  room.  "  Come,"  he  said  lightly, 
'  you  are  neglecting  other  friends  ;"  and  turning  she  saw 


HOME.  545 

fine  photographs  of  Mr.  Wentworlh,  of  Clara  Wilson,  Mrs. 
Wheaton,  and  her  little  brother  and  sister  ;  also  oil  portraits 
of  Roger's  relatives. 

She  went  and  stood  before  each  one,  and  at  last  returned 
to  her  own  kindred,  and  her  eyes  began  to  fill  again. 

"  How  rich  you  are  in  these  !"  she  at  last  said.  "  I  have 
nothing  but  little  pictures." 

"  These  are  yours,  Millie.  "  When  you  are  ready  for 
them  I  shall  place  them  on  your  walls  myself. ' ' 

"  Roger,"  she  said  a  little  brusquely,  dashing  the  tears 
out  of  her  eyes,  ' '  don' t  do  or  say  any  more  kind  things  to 
night,  or  my  self-control  will  be  all  gone." 

' '  On  the  contrary,  I  shall  ask  you  to  do  me  a  kindness. 
Please  sit  down  on  this  low  chair  by  the  fire.  Then  I  can 
add  the  last  and  best  picture  to  this  family  gallery." 

She  did  so  hesitatingly,  and  was  provoked  to  find  that  her 
color  would  rise  as  he  leaned  his  elbow  on  the  mantel  and 
looked  at  her  intently.  She  could  not  meet  his  eyes,  for 
there  was  a  heart-hunger  in  them  that  seemed  to  touch  her 
very  soul.  "Oh,"  she  thought,  "why  doesn't  he — why 
can' t  he  get  over  it  ?' '  and  her  tears  began  to  flow  so  fast  that 
he  said  lightly, 

"  That  will  do,  Millie.  I  won't  have  that  chair  moved. 
Perhaps  you  think  an  incipient  lawyer  has  no  imagination, 
but  I  shall  see  you  there  to-morrow  night.  Come  away  now 
from  this  room  of  shadows.  Your  first  visit  to  me  has  cost 
you  so  many  tears  that  you  will  not  come  again. ' ' 

' '  They  are  not  bitter  tears.  It  almost  seems  as  if  I  had 
found  the  treasures  I  had  lost.  So  far  from  being  saddened, 
I'm  happier  than  I've  been  since  I  lost  them — at  least  I 
should  be  if  I  saw  you  looking  better.  Roger,  you  are  grow 
ing  thin  ;  you  don' t  act  like  your  old  self. 

"  Well,  I  won't  work  late  at  night  any  longer  if  you  don't 
wish  me  to,"  he  replied  evasively. 


546  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

"  Make  me  that  promise,"  she  pleaded  eagerly. 

"  Any  promise,  Millie." 

She  wondered  al  the  slight  thrill  with  which  her  heart  re* 
sponded  to  his  low,  deep  tones. 

In  the  library  she  became  a  different  girl.  A  strange 
buoyancy  gave  animation  to  her  eyes  and  a  delicate  color  to 
her  face.  She  did  not  analyze  her  feelings.  Her  determina 
tion  that  Roger  should  have  a  pleasant  evening  seemed  to 
her  sufficient  to  account  for  the  shining  eyes  she  saw  reflected 
in  a  mirror,  and  her  sparkling  words.  She  praised  his  selec 
tion  of  authors,  though  adding,  with  a  comical  look,  "  You 
are  right  in  thinking  I  don't  know  much  about  them.  The 
binding  is  just  to  my  taste,  whatever  may  be  the  contents  of 
some  of  these  ponderous  tomes.  There  are  a  good  many 
empty  shelves,  Roger. ' ' 

"  I  don't  intend  to  buy  books  by  the  cart-load,"  he  re 
plied.  ' '  A  library  should  grow  like  the  man  who  gathers 
it" 

"  Roger,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  I  think  I  see  some  fancy 
work  that  I  recognize.  Yes,  here  is  more."  Then  she 
darted  back  into  the  sitting-room.  In  a  moment  she 
returned  exclaiming,  "  I  believe  the  house  is  full  of  my 
ttork." 

1 '  There  is  none  of  your  work  in  the  parlors,  Millie. ' ' 

She  ignored  the  implied  reproach  in  words,  but  could  not 
wholly  in  manner.  ' '  So  you  and  Mrs.  Wentworth  con 
spired  against  me,  and  you  got  the  better  of  me  after  all.  You 
were  my  magnificent  patron.  How  could  you  look  me  in 
the  face  all  those  months  ?  How  could  you  watch  my  busy 
fingers,  looking  meanwhile  so  innocent  and  indifferent  to  my 
tasks  ?  I  used  to  steal  some  hours  from  sleep  to  make  you 
little  gifts  for  your  bachelor  room.  They  were  not  fine 
enough  for  your  lordship,  I  suppose.  Have  you  given  them 
away?" 


HOME.  547 

"  They  are  in  my  room  up- stairs.  They  are  too  sacred  for 
use." 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  sentimental  brother  !"  she  said, 
turning  abruptly  away. 

Mrs.  Wheaton  was  their  companion  now,  and  she  soon 
gave  the  final  touches  to  a  delicate  little  supper,  which  with 
some  choice  flowers  she  had  placed  on  the  table.  It  was  her 
purpose  to  wait  upon  them  with  the  utmost  respect  and 
deference,  but  Mildred  drew  her  into  a  chair,  with  a  look  that 
repaid  the  good  soul  a  hundred  times  for  all  the  past. 

"  Roger,"  she  said  gayly,  "  Mrs.  Wheaton  says  you  don't 
eat  much.  You  must  make  up  for  all  the  past  this  evening. 
I'm  going  to  help  you,  and  don't  you  dare  to  leave  any 
thing.  ' ' 

"  Very  well,  I've  made  my  will,"  he  said,  with  a  smiling 
nod. 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  that  way.  How  much  shall  I  give  the 
delicate  creature,  Mrs.  Wheaton  ?  Look  here,  Roger,  you 
should  not  take  your  meals  in  a  library.  You  are  living  on 
books,  and  are  beginning  to  look  like  their  half-starved 
authors. ' ' 

"  You  are  right,  Miss  Millie.  'Alf  the  time  ven  I  come 
to  take  havay  the  thinks  I  finds  'im  readin',  and  the  wittles 
'ardly  touched." 

"  Men  are  such  foolish,  helpless  things  !"  the  young  girl 
protested,  shaking  her  head  reprovingly  at  the  offender. 

"  I  must  have  some  company,"  he  replied. 

"  Nonsense,"  she  cried,  veiling  her  solicitude  under  a 
charming  petulance.  "Roger,  if  you  don't  behave  better, 
you'll  be  a  fit  subject  for  a  hospital." 

"  If  I  can  be  sent  to  your  ward  I  would  ask  nothing  bet 
ter,"  was  his  quick  response. 

Again  she  was  provoked  at  her  rising  color,  for  his  dark 
eyes  glowed  with  an  unmistakable  meaning.  She  changed 


54§  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

the  subject  by  saying,  "  How  many  pretty,  beautiful,  and 
costly  things  you  have  gathered  in  this  room  already ! 
How  comes  it  that  you  have  been  so  fortunate  in  your  selec 
tions  ?' ' 

"  The  reason  is  simple.  I  have  tried  to  follow  your  taste. 
We've  been  around  a  great  deal  together,  and  I've  always 
made  a  note  of  what  you  admired." 

' '  Flatterer, ' '  she  tried  to  say  severely. 

"  I  wasn't  nattering — only  explaining." 

"  Oh  dear  !"  she  thought,  "  this  won't  do  at  all.  This 
homelike  house  and  his  loneliness  in  it  will  make  me  ready 
for  any  folly.  Dear  old  fellow  !  I  wish  he  wasn'  t  so  set,  or 
rather  I  wish  I  were  old  and  wrinkled  enough  to  keep  house 
for  him  now." 

Conscious  of  a  strange  compassion  and  relenting,  she 
hastened  her  departure,  first  giving  a  wistful  glance  at  the 
serene  faces  of  those  so  dear  to  her,  who  seemed  to  say, 
"  Millie,  we  have  found  the  home  of  which  you  dreamed. 
Why  are  not  you  with  us  ?' ' 

Although  she  had  grown  morbid  in  the  conviction  that  she 
could  not,  and  indeed  ought  not  to  marry  Roger,  she  walked 
home  with  him  that  night  with  an  odd  little  unrest  in  her  heart, 
and  an  unexpected  discontent  with  the  profession  that  here 
tofore  had  so  fully  satisfied  her  with  its  promise  of  indepen 
dence  and  usefulness.  Having  spent  an  hour  or  two  in  her 
duties  at  the  hospital,  however,  she  laughed  at  herself  as  one 
does  when  the  world  regains  its  ordinary  and  prosaic  hues 
after  an  absorbing  day-dream.  Then  the  hurry  and  bustle  of 
the  few  days  preceding  her  graduation  almost  wholly  occu 
pied  her  mind. 

A  large  and  brilliant  company  was  present  in  the  evening 
on  which  she  received  her  diploma,  for  the  Training  School 
deservedly  excited  the  interest  of  the  best  and  most  philan 
thropic  people  in  the  city.  It  was  already  recognized  as  the 


HOME.  549 

means  of  giving  to  women  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  use 
ful  careers  in  which  they  can  engage. 

Mildred's  fine  appearance  and  excellent  record  drew  to 
her  much  attention,  and  many  sought  an  introduction. 
Mr.  Wentworth  beamed  on  her,  and  was  eloquent  on  the 
credit  she  had  brought  to  him.  Old  Mr.  Arnold  and  Mrs. 
Sheppard  spoke  to  her  so  kindly  and  gratefully  that  her  eyes 
grew  tearful.  Mrs.  Wheaton  looked  on  exultantly  as  the 
proudest  and  richest  sought  the  acquaintance  of  the  girl  who 
had  so  long  been  like  her  own  child. 

But  the  first  to  reach  and  greet  her  when  the  formalities  of 
the  evening  were  over  was  her  old  friend  who  had  been  Miss 
Wetheridge.  "We  have  just  arrived  from  along  absence 
abroad,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and  I'm  glad  and  thankful  to  say 
that  my  husband's  health  is  at  last  restored.  For  the  first 
year  or  two  he  was  in  such  a  critical  condition  that  I  grew 
selfish  in  my  absorption  in  his  case,  and  I  neglected  you — I 
neglected  everybody  and  everything.  Forgive  me,  Mildred. 
I  have  not  yet  had  time  to  ask  your  story  from  Mr.  Went 
worth,  but  can  see  from  the  way  he  looks  at  you  that  you've 
inflated  him  with  exultation,  and  now  I  shall  wait  to  hear  all 
from  your  own  lips, ' '  and  she  made  the  girl  promise  to  give 
her  the  first  hour  she  could  spare. 

In  spite  of  all  the  claims  upon  her  time  and  attention, 
Mildred's  eyes  often  sought  Roger's  face,  and  as  often  were 
greeted  with  a  bright,  smiling  glance,  for  he  had  determined 
that  nothing  should  mar  her  pleasure  on  this  evening. 
Once,  however,  when  he  thought  himself  unobserved,  she 
saw  a  look  of  weariness  and  dejection  that  smote  her  heart. 

When  the  evening  was  quite  well  advanced  she  came  to 
him  and  said,  "  Won't  you  walk  with  me  a  little  in  this  hall 
way,  where  we  can  be  somewhat  by  ourselves  ?  It  so  happens 
that  I  must  go  on  duty  in  a  few  moments,  and  exchange  this 
bright  scene  for  a  dim  hospital  ward  ;  but  I  love  my  calling, 


55°  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Roger,  and  never  has  it  seemed  so  noble  as  on  this  evening 
while  listening  to  the  physician  who  addressed  us.  There  is 
such  a  deep  satisfaction  in  relieving  pain  and  rescuing  life, 
or  at  least  in  trying  to  do  so  ;  and  then  one  often  has  a 
chance  to  say  words  that  may  bring  lasting  comfort.  Al 
though  I  am  without  a  home  myself,  you  do  not  blame  me 
that  I  am  glad  it  is  my  mission  to  aid  in  driving  awaf 
shadows  and  fear  from  other  homes  ?' ' 

"  I  am  homeless,  too,  Millie." 

"  You  !  in  that  beautiful  house,  with  so  many  that  you 
love  looking  down  upon  you  ?" 

' '  Walls  and  furniture  cannot  make  a  home  ;  neither  can 
painted  shadows  of  those  far  away.  I  say,  Millie,  how  sick 
must  a  fellow  be  in  order  to  have  a  trained  nurse  ?" 

She  turned  a  swift,  anxious  glance  upon  him.  "  Roger, 
tell  me  honestly,"  she  said,  "  are  you  well  ?" 

"  I  don't  know, "  he  replied,  in  a  low  tone  ;  "  I  fear  I'll 
make  you  ashamed  of  me.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  so  weak, 
but  I'm  all  unstrung  to-night.  I'm  losing  courage — losing 
zest  in  life.  I  seem  to  have  everything,  and  my  friends  con 
sider  me  one  of  the  luckiest  of  men.  But  all  I  have 
oppresses  me  and  makes  me  more  lonely.  When  I  was 
sharing  your  sorrows  and  poverty,  I  was  tenfold  happier  than 
I  am  now.  I  live  in  a  place  haunted  by  ghosts,  and  every 
thing  in  life  appears  illusive.  I  feel  to-night  as  if  I  were  los 
ing  you.  Your  professional  duties  will  take  you  here  and 
there,  where  I  cannot  see  you  very  often. ' ' 

' '  Roger,  you  trouble  me  greatly.  You  are  not  well  at  all, 
and  your  extreme  morbidness  proves  it. ' ' 

"  I  know  it's  very  unmanly  to  cloud  your  bright  evening, 
but  my  depression  has  been  growing  so  long  and  steadily 
that  I  can't  seem  to  control  it  any  more.  There,  Millie,  the 
lady  superintendent  is  looking  for  you.  Don't  worry.  You 
medical  and  scientific  people  know  that  it  is  nothing  but  a 


HOME.  55* 

torpid  liver  Perhaps  I  may  be  ill  enough  to  have  a  trained 
nurse.  You  see  I  am  playing  a  deep  game, ' '  and  with  an 
attempt  at  a  hearty  laugh  he  said  good-night,  and  she  was 
compelled  to  hasten  away,  but  it  was  with  a  burdened,  anx 
ious  mind. 

A  few  moments  later  she  entered  on  her  duties  in  one  of 
the  surgical  wards,  performing  them  accurately  from  habit, 
but  mechanically,  for  her  thoughts  were  far  absent.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  she  was  failing  one  who  had  never  failed 
her,  and  her  self-reproach  and  disquietude  grew  stronger 
every  moment.  "  After  all  he  has  been  to  me,  can  I  leave 
him  to  an  unhappy  life  ?"  was  the  definite  question  that  now 
presented  itself.  At  last,  in  a  respite  from  her  tasks,  she  sat 
down  and  thought  deeply. 

Roger,  having  placed  Mrs.  Wheaton  in  a  carriage,  was 
about  to  follow  on  foot,  when  Mr.  Wentworth  claimed  his 
attention  for  a  time.  At  last,  after  the  majority  of  the  guests 
had  departed,  he  sallied  forth  and  walked  listlessly  in  the 
frosty  air  that  once  had  made  his  step  so  quick  and  elastic. 
He  had  not  gone  very  far  before  he  heard  the  sound  of 
galloping  horses,  then  the  voices  of  women  crying  for  help. 
Turning  back  he  saw  a  carriage  coming  toward  him  at  furi 
ous  speed.  A  sudden  recklessness  was  mingled  with  his  im 
pulse  to  save  those  in  extreme  peril,  and  he  rushed  from  the 
sidewalk,  sprang  and  caught  with  his  whole  weight  the  head 
gear  of  the  horse  nearest  to  him.  His  impetuous  onset  com 
bined  with  his  weight  checked  the  animal  somewhat,  and  be 
fore  the  other  horse  could  drag  him  very  far,  a  policeman 
came  to  his  aid,  dealing  a  staggering  blow  behind  the  beast's 
ear  with  his  club,  then  catching  the  rein. 

Roger's  right  arm  was  so  badly  strained  that  it  seemed  to 
fail  him,  and  before  he  could  get  out  of  the  way,  the  rearing 
horse  he  was  trying  to  hold  struck  him  down  and  trampled 
upon  him.  He  was  snatched  out  from  under  the  iron-shod 


55 2  WITHOUT  A   HOME, 

hoofs  by  the  fast  gathering  crowd,  but  found  himself  unable 
to  rise. 

' '  Take  me  to  Bellevue, ' '  he  said  decisively. 

The  hospital  was  not  far  away,  and  yet  before  an  ambu 
lance  could  reach  him  he  felt  very  faint. 

Mildred  sat  in  her  little  room  that  was  partitioned  off  from 
the  ward.  Her  eyes  were  wide  and  earnest,  but  that  which 
she  saw  was  not  present  to  their  vision. 

Suddenly  there  were  four  sharp  strokes  of  the  bell  from  the 
hospital  gate,  and  she  started  slightly  out  of  her  reverie,  for 
the  imperative  summons  indicated  a  surgical  case  which 
might  come  under  her  care.  There  was  something  so  ab 
sorbing  in  the  character  of  her  thoughts,  however,  that  she 
scarcely  heeded  the  fact  that  an  ambulance  dashed  in,  and 
that  the  form  of  a  man  was  lifted  out  and  carried  into  the 
central  office.  She  saw  all  this  obscurely  from  her  window, 
but  such  scenes  had  become  too  familiar  to  check  a  deep 
current  of  thought.  When,  a  few  moments  later,  the  male 
orderly  connected  with  the  ward  entered  and  said,  "  Miss 
Jocelyn,  I've  been  down  and  seen  the  books,  and  accordin' 
to  my  reckonin'  we'll  have  that  case,"  she  sprang  up  with 
alacrity,  and  began  assuring  herself  that  every  appliance  that 
might  be  needed  was  in  readiness.  "  I'm  glad  I  must  be 
busy,"  she  murmured,  "for  I'm  so  bewildered  by  my 
thoughts  and  impulses  in  Roger's  behalf,  that  it's  well  I  must 
banish  them  until  I  can  grow  calm  and  learn  what  is  right. ' ' 

The  orderly  was  right,  and  the  "case"  just  brought  in 
was  speedily  carried  up  on  the  elevator  and  borne  toward  the 
ward  under  her  charge.  With  the  celerity  of  well-trained 
hands  she  had  prepared  everything  and  directed  that  her  new 
charge  should  be  placed  on  a  cot  near  her  room.  She  then 
advanced  to  learn  the  condition  of  the  injured  man.  After 
a  single  glance  she  sprang  forward,  crying, 

"  Oh,  merciful  Heaven  !  it's  Roger  1" 


HOME.  553 

"  You  are  acquainted  with  him  then  ?"  asked  the  surgeon 
who  had  accompanied  the  ambulance,  with  much  interest. 

"  He's  my  brother — he's  the  best  friend  I  have  in  the 
world.  Oh,  be  quick — here.  Gently  now.  O  God,  grant 
his  life  !  Oh,  oh,  he's  unconscious  ;  his  coat  is  soaked  with 
blood — but  his  heart  is  beating.  He  will,  oh,  he  will  live  ; 
will  he  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  think  so,  but  the  case  was  so  serious  that  I 
followed.  You  had  better  summon  the  surgeon  in  charge 
of  this  division,  while  I  and  the  orderly  restore  him  to  con 
sciousness  and  prepare  him  for  treatment. ' ' 

Before  he  ceased  speaking  Mildred  was  far  on  her  way  to 
seek  the  additional  aid. 

When  she  returned  Roger's  sleeve  had  been  removed, 
revealing  an  ugly  wound  in  the  lower  part  of  his  left  arm, 
cut  by  the  cork  of  a  horseshoe,  made  long  and  sharp  because 
of  the  iciness  of  the  streets.  A  tourniquet  had  been  ap 
plied  to  the  upper  part  of  the  arm  to  prevent  further  hemor 
rhage,  and  under  the  administration  of  stimulants  he  was 
giving  signs  of  returning  consciousness. 

The  surgeon  in  charge  of  the  division  soon  arrived,  and 
every  effort  of  modern  skill  was  made  in  the  patient's  be 
half.  Bottles  of  hot  water  were  placed  around  his  chilled 
and  blood-drained  form,  and  spirits  were  injected  hypoder- 
mically  into  his  system.  The  fair  young  nurse  stood  a  little  in 
the  background,  trembling  in  her  intense  anxiety,  and  yet 
so  trained  and  disciplined  that  with  the  precision  of  a  veteran 
she  could  obey  the  slightest  sign  from  the  attendant  sur 
geons.  ' '  He  never  failed  me, ' '  she  thought ;  ' '  and  if 
loving  care  can  save  his  life  he  shall  have  it  night  and  day." 

At  last  Roger  knew  her,  and  smiled  contentedly  ;  then 
closed  his  eyes  in  almost  mortal  weariness  and  weakness. 
As  far  as  he  was  able  to  think  at  all,  he  scarcely  cared 
whether  he  lived  or  died,  since  Mildred  was  near  him. 


554  WITHOUT  A   HOME. 

The  physicians,  after  as  thorough  examination  as  was  pos 
sible,  and  doing  everything  in  their  power,  left  him  with 
hopeful  words.  The  most  serious  features  in  the  case  were 
his  loss  of  blood  and  consequent  great  exhaustion.  The 
division  surgeon  said  that  the  chief  danger  lay  in  renewed 
hemorrhage,  and  should  it  occur  he  must  be  sent  for  at  once, 
and  then  he  left  the  patient  to  Mildred's  care,  with  direc 
tions  as  to  stimulants  and  nourishment. 

Mildred  would  not  let  Roger  speak,  and  he  lay  in  a 
dreamy,  half-waking  condition  of  emire  content.  As  she  sat 
beside  him  holding  his  hand,  she  was  no  longer  in  doubt. 
"  My  '  stupid  old  heart/  as  Belle  called  it,  is  awake  at  last," 
she  thought.  "  Oh,  how  awful  would  be  my  desolation  if 
he  should  die  !  Now  I  know  what  he  is  to  me.  I  loved 
Vinton  as  a  girl ;  I  love  Roger  as  a  woman.  Oh,  how 
gladly  I'd  take  his  place  !  What  could  I  not  sacrifice  for 
him  !  Now  I  know  what  he  has  suffered  in  his  loneliness. 
I  understand  him  at  last.  I  was  hoping  he  would  get  over 
it — as  if  I  could  ever  get  over  this  !  He  said  he  was  losing 
his  zest  in  life.  Oh,  what  an  intolerable  burden  would  his 
loss  make  of  life  for  me  !  O  God,  spare  him  ;  surely  such 
love  as  this  cannot  be  given  to  two  human  souls  to  be  poured 
out  like  water  on  the  rock  of  a  pitiless  fate. ' ' 

"Millie,"  said  Roger  faintly,  "your  hand  seems  alive, 
and  its  pulsations  send  little  thrills  direct  to  my  heart.  Were 
it  not  for  your  hand  I  would  think  my  body  already  dead." 

"  Oh,  Roger,"  she  murmured,  pressing  her  lips  on  his 
hand,  ' '  would  to  God  I  could  put  my  blood  into  your  veins. 
Roger,  dear  beyond  all  words,  don' t  fail  me,  now  that  I  need 
you  as  never  before.  Don't  speak,  don't  move.  Just  rest 
and  gain.  Hush,  hush.  Oh,  be  quiet !  I  won' t  leave  you 
until  you  are  stronger,  and  I'll  always  be  within  call." 

"  I'  11  mind,  Millie.  I  was  never  more  contented  in  my  life. 
-   Toward  morning  he  seemed  better  and  stronger,  and  she 


HOME.  555 

left  him  a  few  moments  to  attend  to  some  other  duties. 
When  she  returned  she  saw  to  her  horror  that  hemorrhage 
had  taken  place,  and  that  his  arm  was  bleeding  rapidly.  She 
sprang  to  his  side,  and  with  trained  skill  pressed  her  fingers 
on  the  brachial  artery,  thus  stopping  further  loss  of  blood  in 
stantly.  Then  calling  to  the  orderly,  she  told  him  to  lose 
not  a  second  in  summoning  the  surgeon. 

Roger  looked  up  into  her  terror-stricken  face,  and  said 
quietly,  ' '  Millie,  I'  m  not  afraid  to  die.  Indeed  I  half  think 
it's  best.  I  couldn't  go  on  in  the  old  way  much  longer — " 

"  Hush,  hush,"  she  whispered. 

"  No,"  he  said  decisively,  "  my  mission  to  you  is  fin 
ished.  You  will  be  an  angel  of  mercy  all  your  days,  but  I 
find  that  after  all  my  ambitious  dreams  I'  m  but  an  ordinary 
man.  You  are  stronger,  nobler  than  I  am.  You  are  a  sol 
dier  that  will  never  be  defeated.  You  think  to  save  my  life 
by  holding  an  artery,  but  the  wound  that  was  killing  me  is 
in  my  heart.  I  don't  blame  you,  Millie — I'm  weak — I'm 
talking  at  random — " 

"  Roger,  Roger,  I'm  not  a  soldier.  I  am  a  weak,  loving 
woman.  I  love  you  with  my  whole  heart  and  soul,  and  if 
you  should  not  recover  you  will  blot  the  sun  out  of  my  sky. 
I  now  know  what  you  are  to  me.  I  knew  it  the  moment  I 
saw  your  unconscious  face.  Roger,  I  love  you  now  with 
a  love  like  your  own — only  it  must  be  greater,  stronger, 
deeper  ;  I  love  you  as  a  woman  only  can  love.  In  mercy 
to  me,  rally  and  live — live/" 

He  looked  at  her  earnestly  a  moment,  and  then  a  glad 
smile  lighted  up  his  face. 

"I'll  live  now,"  he  said  quietly.  "I  should  be  dead 
indeed  did  I  not  respond  to  that  appeal. ' ' 

The  surgeon  appeared  speedily,  and  again  took  up  and 
tied  the  artery,  giving  stimulants  liberally.  Roger  was  soon 
sleeping  with  a  quietude  and  rest  in  his  face  that  assured 


556  WITHOUT  A  HOME. 

Mildred  that  her  words  had  brought  balm  and  healing 
to  a  wound  beyond  the  physician's  skill,  and  that  he  would 
recover.  And  he  did  gain  hourly  from  the  time  she  gave  him 
the  hope  for  which  he  had  so  long  and  so  patiently  waited. 
It  must  be  admitted  that  he  played  the  invalid  somewhat,  for 
he  was  extremely  reluctant  to  leave  the  hospital  until  the 
period  of  Mildred's  duties  expired. 

A  few  months  later,  with  Mrs.  Heartwold — the  Miss 
Wetheridge  of  former  days — by  her  side,  she  was  driven  to 
Roger's  house — her  home  now.  The  parlors  were  no  longer 
empty,  and  she  had  furnished  them  with  her  own  refined 
and  delicate  taste.  But  not  in  the  midst  of  their  beauty  and 
spaciousness  was  she  married.  Mr.  Wentworth  stood  be 
neath  the  portraits  of  her  kindred,  and  with  their  dear  faces 
smiling  upon  her  she  gave  herself  to  Roger.  Those  she 
loved  best  stood  around  her,  and  there  was  a  peace  and  rest 
in  her  heart  that  was  beyond  joy. 

When  all  were  gone,  Roger  wheeled  the  low  chair  to  its 
old  place  beside  the  glowing  fire,  and  said, 

"  Millie,  at  last  we  both  have  a  home.  See  how  Belle  is 
smiling  at  us." 

' '  Dear  sister  Belle, ' '  Mildred  murmured,  ' '  her  words  have 
come  true.  She  said,  Roger,  when  I  was  fool  enough  to 
detest  you,  that  you  '  would  win  me  yet, '  and  you  have — all 
there  is  of  me. ' ' 

Roger  went  and  stood  before  the  young  girl's  smiling  face, 
saying  earnestly, 

"  Dear  little  Belle,  '  we  shall  have  good  times  together  yet,' 
or  else  the  human  heart  with  its  purest  love  and  deepest 
yearning  is  a  lie. ' ' 

Then  turning,  he  took  his  wife  in  his  arms  and  said, 
"  Millie  darling,  we  shall  never  be  without  a  home  again. 
Please  God  it  shall  be  here  until  we  find  the  better  home  of 
Heaven." 


APPENDIX. 


CHRISTIAN  men  and  women  of  New  York,  you — not  the  shop 
keepers — are  chiefly  to  blame  for  the  barbarous  practice  of  com 
pelling  women,  often  but  growing  girls,  to  stand  from  morning 
until  evening,  and  often  till  late  in  the  night.  The  supreme 
motive  of  the  majority  of  the  men  who  enforce  this  inhuman 
regulation  is  to  make  money.  Some  are  kind-hearted  enough 
to  be  very  willing  that  their  saleswomen  should  sit  down  if 
their  customers  would  tolerate  the  practice,  and  others  are  so 
humane  that  they  grant  the  privilege  without  saying,  By  your 
leave,  to  their  patrons. 

There  is  no  doubt  where  the,  main  responsibility  should  be 
placed  in  this  case. 

Were  even  the  intoxicated  drayman  in  charge  of  a  shop, 
when  sober  he  would  have  sufficient  sense  not  to  take  a  course 
that  would  drive  from  him  the  patronage  of  the  "  best  and 
wealthiest  people  in  town."  Upon  no  class  could  public 
opinion  make  itself  felt  more  completely  and  quickly  than 
upon  retail  merchants.  If  the  people  had  the  humanity  to 
say,  We  will  not  buy  a  dime's  worth  at  establishments  that 
insist  upon  a  course  at  once  so  unnatural  and  cruel,  the  evil 
would  be  remedied  speedily.  Employers  declare  that  they 
maintain  the  regulation  because  so  many  of  their  patrons  re 
quire  that  the  saleswoman  shall  always  be  standing  and  ready 
to  receive  them.  It  is  difficult  to  accept  this  statement,  but 
the  truth  that  the  shops  wherein  the  rule  of  standing  is  most 
rigorously  enforced  are  as  well  patronized  as  others  is  scarcely 
a  less  serious  indictment,  and  it  is  also  a  depressing  proof  of 
the  strange  apathy  on  the  question. 

No  labored  logic  is  needed  to  prove  the  inherent  barbarity 
of  the  practice.  Let  any  man  or  woman — even  the  strongest 
—try  to  stand  as  long  as  these  frail,  underfed  girls  are  re- 


558  APPENDIX. 

quired  to  be  upon  their  feet,  and  he  or  she  will  have  a  dem 
onstration  that  can  never  be  forgotten.  In  addition,  con 
sider  the  almost  continual  strain  on  the  mind  in  explaining 
about  the  goods  and  in  recommending  them,  in  making  out 
tickets  of  purchase  correctly  while  knowing  that  any  er 
rors  will  be  charged  against  their  slender  earnings,  or  more 
than  made  good  by  fines.  What  is  worse,  the  organs  of 
speech  are  in  almost  constant  exercise,  and  all  this  in  the 
midst  of  more  or  less  confusion.  The  clergyman,  the  lec 
turer,  is  exhausted  after  an  hour  of  speech.  Why  are  not 
their  thunders  directed  against  the  inhumanity  of  compelling 
women  to  spend  ten  or  twelve  hours  of  speech  upon  their  feet  ? 
The  brutal  drayman  was  arrested  because  he  was  inflicting 
pain  on  a  sentient  being.  Is  not  a  woman  a  sentient  being  ? 
and  is  any  one  so  ignorant  of  physiology  as  not  to  have  some 
comprehension  of  the  evils  which  must  result  in  most  cases 
from  compelling  women — often  too  young  to  be  mature — to 
stand,  under  the  trying  circumstances  that  have  been  de 
scribed  ? 

An  eminent  physician  in  New  York  told  me  that  ten  out  of 
twelve  must  eventually  lose  their  health  ;  and  a  proprietor  of 
one  of  the  shops  admitted  to  me  that  the  girls  did  suffer  this 
irreparable  loss,  and  that  it  would  be  better  for  them  if  they 
went  out  to  service. 

The  fact  that  cashiers  who  sit  all  day  suffer  more  than  those 
who  stand  proves  nothing  against  the  wrong  of  the  latter 
practice.  It  only  shows  that  the  imperative  law  of  nature, 
especially  for  the  young,  is  change,  variety.  Why  not  accept 
the  fact,  and  be  as  considerate  of  the  rights  of  women  as  of 
horses,  dogs,  and  cats  ?  While  making  my  investigations  on 
this  subject,  I  asked  a  gentleman  who  was  in  charge  of  one 
of  the  largest  retail  shops  in  the  city,  on  what  principle  he 
dealt  with  this  question.  "On  the  principle  of  humanity,''' 
he  replied.  "  I  have  studied  hygienic  science,  and  know 
that  a  woman  can't  stand  continuously  except  at  the  cost  of 
serious  ill-health." 

Later  I  asked  the  proprietor  if  he  did  not  think  that  his 
humanity  was  also  the  best  business  policy,  for  the  reason  that 


APPENDIX,  559 

his  employes  were  in  a  better  condition  to  attend  to  their 
duties. 

"  No,"  he  said  ;  "  on  strict  business  principles  I  would  re 
quire  constant  standing  ;  but  this  has  no  weight  with  me,  in 
view  of  the  inhumanity  of  such  a  rule.  If  I  had  the  room  for 
it  in  the  store,  I'd  give  all  my  employes  a  good  slice  of  roast 
beef  at  noon  ;  but  I  have  not,  and  therefore  I  give  them  plenty 
of  time  for  a  good  lunch." 

The  manager  of  another  establishment,  which  was  fur 
nished  with  ample  means  of  rest  for  the  girls,  said  to  me, 
"  A  man  that  compels  a  girl  to  stand  all  day  ought  to  be 
flogged." 

He  also  showed  me  a  clean,  comfortable  place  in  the  base 
ment  in  which  the  girls  ate  their  lunches.  It  was  supplied 
with  a  large  cooking-stove,  with  a  woman  in  constant  attend 
ance.  Each  girl  had  her  own  tea-  or  coffee-pot,  and  time  was 
^iven  for  a  substantial  and  wholesome  meal.  I  would  rather 
pay  ten  per  cent  more  for  goods  at  such  shops  than  to  buy 
them  at  others  where  women  are  treated  as  the  cheapest  kind 
of  machines,  that  are  easily  replaced  when  broken  down. 

Granting,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  customers  may  not 
be  waited  on  quite  so  promptly,  and  that  the  impression  of  a 
brisk  business  may  not  be  given  if  many  of  the  girls  are 
seated,  these  are  not  sufficient  reasons  for  inflicting  torment 
on  those  who  earn  their  bread  in  shops.  I  do  not  and  cannot 
believe,  however,  that  the  rule  is  to  the  advantage  of  either 
employer  or  customer  in  the  long  run.  It  is  not  common- 
sense  that  a  girl,  wearied  almost  beyond  endurance,  and  dis 
tracted  by  pain,  can  give  that  pleasant,  thoughtful  attention 
to  the  purchaser  which  she  could  bestow  were  she  in  a  normal 
condition.  At  very  slight  expense  the  proprietors  of  large 
shops  could  give  all  their  employe's  a  generous  plate  of  soup 
and  a  cup  of  good  tea  or  coffee.  Many  bring  meagre  and 
unwholesome  lunches  ;  more  dine  on  cake,  pastry,  and  con 
fectionery.  These  ill-taught  girls  are  just  as  prone  to  sin 
against  their  bodies  as  the  better  taught  children  of  the  rich. 
If  employers  would  give  them  something  substantial  at  mid 
day,  and  furnish  small  bracket  seats  which  could  be  pulled 


560  APPENDIX, 

out  and  pushed  back  within  a  second  of  time,  they  would  find 
their  business  sustained  by  a  corps  of  comfortable,  cheerful, 
healthful  employe's  ;  and  such  a  humane,  sensible  policy  cer 
tainly  ought  to  be  sustained  by  all  who  have  any  sympathy 
with  Mr.  Bergh. 

The  belief  of  many,  that  the  majority  of  the  girls  are  broken 
down  by  dissipation,  is  as  superficial  as  it  is  unjust.  Un 
doubtedly,  many  do  carry  their  evening  recreation  to  an  in 
jurious  excess,  and  some  place  themselves  in  the  way  of  temp 
tations  which  they  have  not  the  strength  to  resist ;  but  every 
physician  knows  that  some  recreation,  some  relief  from  the 
monotony  of  their  hard  life,  is  essential.  Otherwise,  they 
would  grow  morbid  in  mind  as  well  as  enfeebled  in  body. 
The  crying  shame  is  that  there  are  so  few  places  where  these 
girls  can  go  from  their  crowded  tenement  homes  and  find 
innocent  entertainment.  Their  dissipations  are  scarcely  more 
questionable,  though  not  so  elegantly  veneered,  as  those  of 
the  fashionable,  nor  are  the  moral  and  physical  effects  much 
worse.  But  comparatively  few  would  go  to  places  of  ill- 
repute  could  they  find  harmless  amusements  suited  to  their 
intelligence  and  taste.  After  much  investigation,  I  am  satis 
fied  that  in  point  of  morals  the  working-women  of  New  York 
compare  favorably  with  any  class  in  the  world.  To  those 
who  do  not  stand  aloof  and  surmise  evil,  but  who  acquaint 
themselves  with  the  facts,  it  is  a  source  of  constant  wonder 
that  in  their  hard  and  often  desperate  struggle  for  bread  they 
still  maintain  so  high  a  standard. 

Tenement  life  with  scanty  income  involves  many  shadows 
at  best,  but  in  the  name  of  manhood  I  protest  against  taking 
advantage  of  the  need  of  bread  to  inflict  years  of  pain  and 
premature  death.  We  all  are  involved  in  this  wrong  to  the 
degree  that  we  sustain  establishments  from  which  a  girl  is 
discharged  if  she  does  not  or  cannot  obey  a  rule  which  it 
would  be  torture  for  us  to  keep. 

I  shall  be  glad,  indeed,  if  these  words  hasten  by  one  hour 
the  time  when  from  the  temple  of  human  industry  all  trad 
ers  shall  be  driven  out  who  thrive  on  the  agonies  of  girls  as 
frail  and  impoverished  as  Mildred  Jocelyn. 


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